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'1 





T DON’T SEE ANYTHING BUT A TRACK ” 




Inihe 

CAMP 

gfihe 

CREER5 


fir 

Louis Pendleion 

<~rluihor of j 

' King Tom 2Jid The Runaways.- 
*ln the Okefinokee' etc 

Illusiraied 

F. A. Carter 


THE FENNc^ 
PUBLISHING 
C OiViPAN Yc^ 
PHILADELPHIA 
AV C M III 





THE LIBRARY OF 

CONGRESS, 

Two Copies 

Received 

OCT 21 

1903 

Copyright 

Entry 

%/-, 


CLASS 

XXc. No. 

^ 0 s 

1 o 

^ COPY 

A. 


Copyright 1903 by The Penn Publishing Company 



In The Camp of the Creeks 


Contents 


CHAP. PAGE 

I A Disregarded Warning 5 

II Wolves or Indians ? 18 

III Strange Doings on Big Island . . 32 

IV Grief at the Keswick Farm ... 45 

V To THE Rescue 57 

VI Retreat Cut Off 70 

VII Julian Outwits the Enemy ... 85 

VIII An Unsatisfactory Voyage .... 100 

IX The “Water Lily’' and the Bee 

Tree 115 

X A Trying Night ....... 13 1 

XI The Gauntlet and the Council 

House 148 

XII The Indian Point of View . . . . 161 

XIII The Rivalry of Pretty Crow and 

Black Hawk 177 

XIV A Boy’s Idea 192 

XV Chitta-Miko, the Medicine-Man . 208 

XVI Captors Quarrel and Captives 

Scheme 224 

XVII Dan’s Escape 238 


1 


2 


Contents 


XVIII Hi-lo-lo and Maggie 253 

XIX Chitta-Miko’s Vision and the Flight 

Down the Creek 266 

XX From the Frying-Pan to the Fire 283 
XXI The Battle of Chickasawhatchee . 299 

XXII Hi-lo-lo Triumphs and Julian Rides 

TO A Wedding 31 1 

Historical Postscript 326 


Illustrations 

PAGE 

I Don’t See Anything but a Track ” Frontispiece • 

“Then I’ll Go by Myself” 6o ' 

The Indians Stood Around Him Exultantly 91 
The Panther’s Forepaws Grasped the Canoe 146 
Dan in the Condemned Prisoner’s Tent . .213 

The Indians Failed to Locate Him . . . 248 

Julian Scattered the Burning Sticks . . . 303 


3 


( 


I 


In the Camp of the Creeks 


CHAPTER I 

A DISREGARDED WARNING 

They had left the open pine woods behind 
them and penetrated the outer rim of the 
Chickasawhatchee swamp when, on entering 
a little open space shadowed by great trees, 
the young man who led the way suddenly 
squatted and gazed intently at a depression in 
the damp, spongy earth before him. 

See that, Julian ? 

“ I don’t see anything but a track,” said 
the boy, bending down to look. 

Yes, but it wasn’t no boot nor shoe that 
made that. It was a genuine moccasin, and 
yet I know nobody wears ’em in these parts, 
and there ain’t no Injuns about.” 

Man and boy stood upright again and each 
looked hard into the other’s face. The latter. 


5 


6 In the Camp of the Creeks 

who was slender and straight, with dark e3^es, 
a swarthy skin and black hair, was much bet- 
ter dressed than his florid, blue-eyed com- 
panion who wore brown jean trousers, a blue 
home-spun cotton shirt and a palmetto hat. 
Though not undersized for a boy of fifteen, 
Julian Curtis was indeed a little fellow when 
measured by Dan Dennard’s more than six 
feet of height and powerful build. 

It was early in the afternoon of the 27th of 
June, in the year 1836, when the two entered 
the Chickasawhatchee swamp in southwestern 
Georgia, one of the maii}^ characteristic mo- 
rasses of a region wherein the Okefinokee and 
the Everglades are the most extensive and 
enduring examples. The outlying sections of 
the Chickasawhatchee have long since been 
cleared and much of the submerged land re- 
claimed, but at that time the swamp varied 
from four to eight miles in width and was 
more than fifteen miles in length. Like the 
Okefinokee of to-day, it consisted of flooded 
jungles and marshes, small lakes and forest- 


In the Camp of the Creeks 7 

covered islands, and was infested with a va- 
riety of wild animals and reptiles. By no 
white man had it as yet been fully explored, 
but Dan Dennard, a young farmer of the 
vicinity, was familiar with its more accessible 
recesses. 

There may be Indians about, though,’^ 
said the boy, looking once more at the puz- 
zling track, after an apprehensive glance 
around him. “ I forgot to tell you that the 
news has come of an outbreak among the 
Creeks. They were talking about the fight- 
ing up in Stewart County at Uncle Cyrus’s 
last night.” 

He then hurried on to tell all that he had 
heard. It appeared that, after firing on the 
steamer “ Georgia ” and killing all on board, 
a large band of Creek Indians had crossed the 
Chattahoochee River from the Alabama side, 
and on the night of May 13, attacked and set 
fire to the village of Roanoke in Stewart 
County. The whites stood their ground, but 
were again attacked before day on Sunday 


8 In the Camp of the Creeks 

morning of the fifteenth by about three hun- 
dred Indians. Being taken by surprise and 
so greatly outnumbered, they were compelled 
to retreat into a block-house for safety, nine 
whites and three blacks having been killed at 
the first fire and a dozen others wounded. 
The attacking party had apparently raised 
the siege and retired across the river, for there 
were no further reports of their doings until 
the 9th of June, three weeks later, when a 
desperate battle took place at Shepherd’s 
plantation in the same county between a 
handful of whites and a considerable body 
of Indians. The local militia felt unequal to 
the task of subduing them, and while rein- 
forcements from neighboring counties were 
awaited, the marauding band of Creeks re- 
treated southward on the Georgia side of the 
Chattahoochee, after committing many depre- 
dations. It was believed they were on their 
way to join their kindred, the Seminoles, in 
Florida, who had worsted General Clinch in a 
battle on the Withlacoochee six months before. 


In the Camp of the Creeks 9 

Although two weeks had now passed since 
the Indians began their retreat south, and the 
farmhouse in the Chickasawhatchee woods 
where Julian Curtis had heard the news was 
little more than fifty miles distant from the 
scene of the later troubles, rumors of what 
had occurred had only recently arrived in 
that remote, thinly-settled region. 

That^s what this track means ; I’ll bet 
those same Indians are in these woods,” ven- 
tured Julian, again looking distrustfully into 
the dark recesses of the forest about them. 

Oh, I reckon not,” answered Dennard 
coolly, though he examined the priming of 
his rifie as he spoke. ‘‘ They ought to ’a’ got 
h-yer long before this, and if they was bound 
straight for Fluridy the Chickasawhatchee 
would be a long ways out o’ their road. 
They wouldn’t strike Baker County. They 
would go down through Early and Decatur, 
’longside o’ the Chattahoochee. That’s what 
they must ’a’ done, unless they crossed back 
into Alabam’.” 


lo In the Camp of the Creeks 

“ But that track ? ” reminded Julian, point- 
ing a finger at the spot. 

That is sort o’ curious,” admitted Den- 
nard, “ but what are them Injuns loafin’ 
round h-yer for if they’re makin’ for Fluridy? 
It ain’t in reason. No, I reckon that track 
must ’a’ been made by some old white trap- 
per from t’other side the swamp who’s been 
’mongst the Injuns and took a notion to wear 
moccasins.” 

“ Don’t you think we’d better go back and 
let people know?” suggested Julian, not 
quite convinced. 

“You can trust Tom Carr to know it by 
this time if the Injuns is here, and he’ll tell 
everybody,” was the indifferent answer. 

Indian warfare had for so long been re- 
garded as a thing of the past, except so far as 
the struggle with the Semi notes in Florida 
was concerned, that this self-reliant young 
giant of the woods was not easily to be 
alarmed. Indeed, he found it difficult to be- 
lieve the reports of the fighting in Stewart 


In the Camp of the Creeks n 

Count}^ and suspected that the facts were 
grossly exaggerated. He was quite wrong, 
but his state of mind was reasonable enough. 
He Avas too young to remember the bitter 
struggle of 1812, when the Creeks sided with 
the British, and since then there had been no 
fighting of any consequence north of the 
Florida line. He knew that the remnant of 
the Creek nation had steadily retreated west- 
ward in advance of the settlements of the ag- 
gressive whites and had always regarded them 
as fully and finally whipped.’^ 

However, the caution of an experienced 
hunter now led him to look about for other 
tracks and discover the direction in which 
they led. And several others were found, 
but the trail was promptly lost in the neigh- 
boring brush. 

I ain’t a’scared,” he said finally, as undis- 
turbed as ever. “ Lets go on in and take a 
look at my turkey-pen, and then, if you say 
so, we’ll cut the trip short and come out again, 
and if anything is goin’ on Ave’ll be on hand.” 


12 


In the Camp of the Creeks 

Reassured by his elder’s calm confidence, 
the boy agreed, and they again trudged for- 
ward. For the most part their route was 
marked by a fairly distinct path, hut walking 
was not easy. Such comparatively open 
spots as lay in their course were usually little 
more than sloppy bogs, along the borders of 
which they carefully picked their way. And 
these were continually alternated with dense 
thickets of swamp reeds and tangled vines, 
in which the thorny, rope-like bamboo-briar 
luxuriated, ever ready to lay a ruthless hand 
upon their clothing and hold fast till a rent 
garment resulted, or until its tenacious grip 
was carefully loosed. And whether it were 
by bog or thicket, the interlacing branches of 
the crowding trees ever shut from their view 
the sun and tempered its light. 

A half hour’s tramp amid these difficulties 
brought them within view of a black, bayou- 
like stretch of water, and the boy knew they 
had now reached a submerged portion of the 
swamp. He had long looked forward to this 


In the Camp of the Creeks 13 

excursion. He had not been brought up in 
the neighborhood and knew little of the 
wilder woods of the country. His father was 
a circuit judge resident at Columbus, a thriv- 
ing town on the Chattahoochee, about a hun- 
dred miles to the north ; and a short while 
before the Indian outbreak Julian had been 
permitted to ride down to Baker County with 
an escort of two trusty negro men-servants in 
order to visit relations living near the Chick- 
asawhatchee swamp. Mr. Cyrus Keswick, 
the uncle at whose house he was staying, 
forbade the bold and venturesome lad to fish 
or hunt in the Chickasawhatchee alone, and 
this had led to the friendship between Julian 
and Dan Dennard. For the boy was deter- 
mined to get a chance at the big game ” in 
the swamp, and Dennard, who spent much 
time hunting and trapping — to the neglect of 
his farm, his critics said — was almost the only 
person in the vicinity to whom the Chickasa- 
whatchee was anything but a vast unknown 
land. 


14 In the Camp of the Creeks 

Arrived at the borders of the dark lake, 
Julian’s guide made haste to produce a canoe 
from its place of concealment in a clump of 
rushes, and the two got afloat. It was not the 
light, delicately-poised birch-bark canoe of the 
Canadian lake region, but a rather clumsy af- 
fair dug out of a section of a tree trunk, more 
suggestive of the old-fashioned horse trough 
than of an ordinary boat. It was neatly hol- 
lowed out, however, and carefully shaped at 
the ends so as to offer as little resistance as 
possible when propelled forward or back- 
ward. It was about twelve feet long, less 
than three feet in width at its widest, and 
was spanned by two thwarts. Though 
clumsy, it had the advantage of being less 
delicately poised than a bark canoe and its 
passengers could sit on the thwarts, as they 
used their paddles, without danger of tipping 
over. 

She mought be fancier,” said Dennard, as 
they took their seats, but she’s my own 
make and I ain’t ashamed o’ her. She’s car- 


In the Camp of the Creeks 15 

ried me over many a mile o’ water in the 
Chickasawhatchee. ’ ’ 

Speaking from all the wisdom of his lim- 
ited experience, Julian declared that she 
couldn’t be better,” and, in fact, under the 
impetus of her builder’s powerful strokes, the 
canoe cut through the water in quite an ad- 
mirable way, and by means of a dexterous 
twist of the rear paddle could readily be 
steered in and out of the windings of their 
course. 

Never had Julian rested eyes on such a 
scene as was unrolled before him. Now a 
long winding reach of black bayou or lagoon 
bordered by trees standing knee-deep in the 
flood and flying a thousand spectral flags of 
gray Spanish moss ; now a narrow, tortuous 
boat-trail among the crowding trunks of 
standing as well as fallen trees, among tangled 
masses of reeds that barred the way and must 
be beaten aside, beneath low-hanging branches 
dipping their flnger-like leafage into the 
water, and drifts of vines and creepers trail- 


i6 In the Camp of the Creeks 

ing down to the very surface of dark, still 
pools. There were thin-leaved cypresses tow- 
ering on high (less like the cypress of Italy 
than the hemlock is like the pine) ; cypress 
knees,” or huge round, upreaching growths 
of the great tree’s roots, rising from the wine- 
colored water a dozen feet from the parent 
stem ; others lying in wait a few inches under 
the same dark water, as perilous to the swamp 
boat as a sunken reef to an ocean ship. 

It was a veritable jungle, submerged in 
water of varying depths ; and in the dim, 
half-glimpsed vistas opening here and there 
on either hand, as they pursued their course, 
they noted the hasty flight of some wild bird, 
the noisy leap from one branch to another of 
some startled animal ; and from time to time, 
from far and near, came the sound of unfa- 
miliar croaks and barks. 

When they were within a short distance of 
the proposed stopping place Dennard sud- 
denly uttered a warning Sh ! ” and put 
down his paddle. Then, as they drifted in 


In the Camp of the Creeks 17 

silence round a bend, he brought his rifle 
quickly to his shoulder, took lightning aim, 
and fired. 


CHAPTER II 


WOLVES OR INDIANS 

Julian was not a little startled, and his 
first agitated thought was “ Indians ! But 
as soon as he grasped the situation he felt 
ashamed to think that he who so wished to 
become an experienced hunter had been so 
little on the alert. Against the muddy bank 
of a tussock around the bend, not fifty yards 
away, lay a long slender creature but half 
out of water struggling in death. The boy 
did not know what it was, but promptly 
took note of its glossy brown fur, its broad 
flat head, small eyes and ears, its long, flex- 
ible body, short powerful legs and webbed 
feet, as Dennard seized the paddle and sent 
the canoe forward. 

I got him this time,’^ the young man 
cried joyfully, catching hold of the dying 
beast and lifting it into the canoe. I knew 
18 


In the Camp of the Creeks 19 

he was nosin' round this neighborhood. Look 
at that ! — shot right through the head." 

What is it? " asked Julian. 

“ Never seen an otter skin ? " cried Dennard, 
in surprise. “ It's mighty late in the season," 
he went on to say, but maybe I can cure 
that skin all right and get about two dollars 
for it." 

As they resumed their journey, the young 
trapper inquired of the boy if any visitors 
showed themselves at his uncle's on the night 
before. 

Dr. Foscue stopped before sundown and 
stayed to supper, and Tommy Lumpkin rode 
out after dark," replied Julian. ‘‘ They both 
brought news of the fighting up in Stewart. 
They think Uncle Cyrus ought to move into 
Newton if the Indians come this way, but he 
says he won’t." 

He’s got spunk, but maybe they're right. 
How was Miss Maggie, — sassy as usual ? 
How did she treat them two fellers? ” 

She was pretty ^ sassy.' She laughed and 


20 


In the Camp of the Creeks 

made a heap of fun of ^em. She said if the 
Indians did come, neither one of ^em would 
be in the fight/' 

“Did she say that?" laughed Dennard, 
immensely pleased. “ Don’t know but what 
she’s right.’’ 

“ Cousin Maggie is not apt to waste much 
time on either of those two,’’ the boy added. 
There was no actual kinship between him 
and Miss Margaret Keswick, the niece of his 
deceased aunt’s husband, but they were good 
friends and called each other cousin. 

“ Dr. Jim Foscue will be the lucky man, I 
reckon,’’ remarked Dennard, suddenly look- 
ing very sober. 

“ I’ll bet you he won’t,’’ declared Julian 
confidently. “ She calls him old ‘ Physic 
Bottle.’ She doesn’t believe in doctors ; she 
says they kill more people than they ^ k-yo.’ ’’ 

“ Her head’s level,’’ cried Dennard, again 
convulsed with delighted laughter. 

“ And as for Tommy Lumpkin, she says 
‘ he’s a good-for-nothing counter-jumper — 


21 


In the Camp of the Creeks 

measurin^ out calico there in Newton when 
he ought to be ploughin’ like a man.’ She 
named her puppy ^ Tommy/ and you just 
ought to hear her abuse that puppy ! ” 

Once more the young man laughed, but 
his face quickly grew serious, as it occurred 
to him that Miss Maggie might not be 
in the habit of reserving all her merry, 
stinging shafts for the two unfortunates 
named. 

“ That’s all very well,” he said, but what 
does she say about me ? ” 

You don’t get off scot free either,” was 
the answer, an amused twinkle in the boy’s 
eye. She calls you the ^ scary trapper.’ 
She says you haven’t got the spunk of a 
chicken. She says when you come to Uncle 
Cyrus’s you look at her as if you expected 
her to bite you. She says you’ll say : ^ How 
you come on. Miss Maggie?’ Then you’ll 
stand on one foot, then on the other, and 
then you’ll say : ' It’s fine weather for 

plantin’ corn.’ Then you’ll look scareder 


22 


In the Camp of the Creeks 

than ever, and directly yoiidl say : ^ I got to 
go out and speak to Mr. Keswick on business, 
Miss Maggie.’ And off you go, red in the 
face, and as soon as you are out of hearing 
she just laughs until she hollers” — this 
terrible Miss Maggie who was only sixteen 
years old ! 

As he spoke, Julian’s unconscious gestures 
and changing facial expression and tone of 
voice indicated a surprising power of mimicry, 
and the effect was such as to fill the wincing 
Dennard with almost as much self-conscious 
misery as if the alarming Miss Maggie herself 
sat facing him in the boat. 

“ I hated to tell you, but I thought if I 
did, maybe the next time you’d know 
better,” the shrewd boy continued. Uncle 
Cyrus says it won’t do for a young man to let 
a girl know he’s afraid of her — she’ll plague 
him to death.” 

If I tell you the truth, Julian,” said poor 
Dennard dolefully, sometimes I’d as soon 
face a panther as Miss Maggie. She makes 


In the Camp of the Creeks 23 

me oneasy ; I think she’s laughin’ at me all 
the time.” 

“ You mustn’t mind that,” said Julian, 
evidently favoring, for his part, this most 
bashful of his young cousin’s three suitors 
and wishing to encourage him. She 
naturally likes to laugh and make fun of 
young men. She says she hates ’em, but I 
don’t believe it. She says there isn’t one in 
Baker County that she’d have, but she can’t 
fool me. She says she’ll have to wait ten 
years and then marry me.” 

“ Just so she gives the cold shoulder to Dr. 
Jim and Tommy, I’m satisfied,” said Dennard, 
now smiling sheepishly. But shucks ! she’ll 
never look at a awk’ard feller like me, if 
there ain’t another man in sight.” 

Well she doesn’t think you’re a coward 
anyhow,” declared George. “ I heard her tell 
Uncle Cyrus last night that if the Indians did 
come, you were the only one of the three they 
could depend on.” 

Did she say that, Julian, shore ’nough ? ” 


24 In the Camp of the Creeks 

demanded Dennard, flushing scarlet and 
brimming with satisfaction. This would be 
something to reflect upon hopefully for a 
week to come. 

He fell into a revery and they moved on in 
silence. Shortly afterward a small island ap- 
peared before them and they landed. The 
shore was rimmed with a dense, luxuriant 
hammock growth, but above this was a high 
and dry acreage of pine barren, the whole 
length of which was less than a quarter of a 
mile, and the width not more than an eighth. 
Dennard said he called it “ Little Island,” and 
another about a mile distant and of far greater 
extent, “ Big Island.” He generally camped 
on the former when in the swamp over night. 

As he spoke, he led the way through the 
hammock growth, dragging the dead otter 
after him. On the borders of the open stretch 
of pine land, he pointed out a rude palmetto- 
thatched shelter, under which his skins were 
hung during the trapping season. Near this 
were a spring and a brush tent. In construct- 


In the Camp of the Creeks 25 

ing the latter a slender pine sapling had been 
cut down and lashed at either end with bear- 
grass thongs to two small trees about ten feet 
apart. Against this cross-bar, which was some 
four feet from the ground, eight or ten other 
saplings were leaned at an angle of about 
forty-five degrees, and less than a foot apart. 
Over these had been arranged a large number 
of palmetto fans cut within a few feet of the 
spot, thus forming a thatch which was pro- 
tected from gusts of wind by two or three 
other saplings laid diagonally across. On the 
ground under this thatched lean-to, which evi- 
dently provided a good shelter as long as the 
wind blew at the back and not into the open 
front, Julian observed a pile of gray moss, 
tons of which were hanging from the neigh- 
boring trees, and understood that this was the 
trapper’s bed. At Dennard’s suggestion, he 
dragged it out and spread it about where the 
sun could strike it, while his friend proceeded 
to skin the otter. 

The boy admired the deftness with which 


26 In the Camp of the Creeks 

this was done, but was glad when the skin 
had been hung up and the carcass dragged 
some distance away and thrown into the 
bushes, for he was anxious to start on the pro- 
posed tramp around the island, visit the tur- 
key-pen, and, if possible, get a shot at 
game worth the effort. 

The sun was low when they set out across 
the stretch of dry land covered with scatter- 
ing pines, and dotted with blackjack thickets 
and small, impenetrable clumps of fan-pal- 
mettoes. As they went forward, Dennard 
told how he trapped fur-bearing animals in 
the winter time. His snares were placed on 
the islands and at different points of the 
swamp itself, he said, usually on tussocks, 
small mounds of earth and decaying vegeta- 
tion that rose here and there above the 
surrounding water. Any place where there 
was a foot of dry land would do to 
set a trap on ” ; for the animals of the 
swamp, large and small, went everywhere, 
some perhaps leaping from tree to tree, 


In the Camp of the Creeks 27 

but none being averse to a swim in the 
water. 

The turkey-pen was a trap of a different 
sort. It was built of sections of slender pine 
saplings, and was so arranged that when these 
wild fowl had followed the bait of shelled 
corn into it they could not get out, and thus 
were taken alive and unharmed. As Dennard 
and Julian drew near the spot they heard 
welcome sounds. Several captured turkeys 
were evidently trying to break through the 
cracks in the pen instead of regaining their 
freedom through the low passage by which 
they had entered, following the bait. This 
passage was a sort of tunnel starting on the 
outside and coming up in the centre of the 
pen. Once lured into the trap, the turkeys 
would walk round and round, looking always 
up and out and never down the hole almost at 
their feet. The light streaming from above 
apparently caused them to forget all about the 
path to freedom below. 

Six of these unreasoning creatures were 


28 In the Camp of the Creeks 

found still struggling to escape through the 
narrow cracks in the pen. Taking them out 
one by one, Dennard tied their feet together 
and clipped their wings, remarking that there 
would be turkey for a week for Mr. Kes- 
wick’s household as well as his own. Shoul- 
dering his fluttering burden, he returned at 
once to camp, leaving Julian to follow later, 
after a walk about the lower end of the island 
in search of game. 

The boy persuaded himself that he would 
take delight in encountering a panther or a 
bear, both of which were to be found in the 
Chickasawhatchee, and he hoped that he 
would at least get a chance at a deer. No 
such ambitious dreams were realized, which 
was perhaps fortunate, but he did not return 
empty handed. He had almost given up in 
despair when he saw a large bird fly through 
the tree-tops and alight on a branch within 
easy range. He fired promptly, the game 
dropped, and running forward he was well 
pleased to find that he had shot a wild tur- 


In the Camp of the Creeks 29 

key. For the live birds were to be taken 
home and they needed game for supper. Be- 
sides, he felt sure that this was not a bad be- 
ginning, for, according to his friend, the 
turkey when at large was a wary bird. 

The last hour of daylight was spent at the 
camp curing the otter skin. The fat being 
carefully scraped off with a butcher’s knife, 
small holes were cut all around the skin, and 
into these bear-grass strings Avere inserted. 
The hide Avas then stretched between stout, 
upright stakes and a fire built near it to 
hasten the process of drying. While Den- 
nard was thus engaged, under his friend’s di- 
rection Julian built another fire, fried por- 
tions of his turkey cut into thin slices, and 
made coffee. It Avas quite dark when they 
sat doAvn to eat heartily of their supper, 
and as the boy glanced about him at the dim 
outlines of the surrounding trees and heard 
now and then a distant sound made by some 
night-bird or prowling animal, he found the 
prospect of encountering alone a panther or a 


30 In the Camp of the Creeks 

bear less pleasing than it had been two hours 
earlier. He realized now more vividly than 
by daylight that the wild Chickasawhatchee 
was a place of danger. 

If the Indians were to camp in here it 
would be hard to get at ^em/^ he spoke up 
abruptly. 

“ You’re mighty right/’ answered Dennard, 
lighting his pipe and puffing away uncon- 
cernedly. “ They could git to Big Island by 
wadin’ in from t’other side. The water ain’t 
more’n waist deep over there. But I ain’t 
studyin’ ’bout Injuns. I’ll believe in ’em 
when I see ’em. I aim to turn in d’rectly 
and have a good snooze.” 

He was arranging the bed of moss under 
the lean-to a short while later when he sud- 
denly stopped to listen. Exclaiming, ‘‘ What’s 
that?” he crawled quickly from beneath the 
thatch and stood erect. 

“ I heard it before you noticed it,” said the 
boy. 

‘‘ It’s over Big Island way,” rejoined Den- 


In the Camp of the Creeks 31 

nard softly. Now that^s powerful curious. 
It ain’t the time o’ year for the wolves to be 
howlin’ like that. Sh 1 ” 

Again it came to them on the gently flow- 
ing night breeze — a faint and far sound as of 
howling, or high pitched shouting. 

It ain’t wolves surely. It must be people. 
But who on earth can be carryin’ on like 
that?” 

It’s the Indians ! ” 

“ Maybe so. Anyhow I’ll soon And out.” 

Without another word Dennard hastened 
to cut some sticks of “ fat,” resinous pine 
from a seasoned old log, and lighting one of 
them at the Are, he led the way down the 
slope to the water’s edge and they embarked 
in the canoe. Seated on the foremost thwart, 
Julian held aloft the torch, while his friend’s 
regular and vigorous strokes of the paddle 
sent the little craft swiftly forward. 


CHAPTER III 


STRANGE DOINGS ON BIG ISLAND 

During the next half hour scarcely a word 
passed between them, the boy’s anxious ques- 
tions being held in check by his companion’s 
gravity of manner. Julian wondered if the 
Indians — for Indians he never doubted they 
were — had any canoes, and if they would 
discover and chase those who were now going 
to spy on them. At every turn of the course 
he fancied he saw dark faces and uplifted 
tomahawks among the crowding trees, and at 
every sound started apprehensively. Yet 
never once did he wish that he had been left 
behind. 

Wilder and more awesome than ever 
seemed the Chickasawhatchee, as the red 
light of the pine torch now revealed but a 
few yards at a time of the dense jungles, or 
glanced along the sluggish waters of the black 

32 


In the Camp of the Creeks 33 

bayous, dimly outlining the giant cypresses 
with their shroud-like draperies of Spanish 
moss. The native silence and gloom and 
mystery of the great swamp was but intensi- 
fied by that sound of howling or hooting that 
rose and fell with the night breeze, and 
gradually grew louder as they went for- 
ward. 

Put out the light,’^ directed Dennard at 
last. They mustn’t see it. We’re in the 
creek now and I can find the rest o’ the way 
in the dark.” 

As he threw the torch into the water, Julian 
observed a perceptible current, and inquiring 
in a whisper, was told that the Chickasa- 
whatchee Creek, on its course toward the Flint 
River in the open country, flowed past the 
larger island. As a bend of the stream was 
rounded ten minutes later, they saw the light 
of camp-fires some distance on and shortly 
after could distinguish the rapid movement 
of numerous human figures within the circle 
of light, the shrill shouting being meanwhile 


34 In the Camp of the Creeks 

kept up. Unquestionably a numerous com- 
pany was encamped on the island. 

You stay here with the canoe while I slip 
up on ’em and take a look,” whispered Den- 
nard, as they glided up to the base of a sloping 
bank. You’d better paddle over there behind 
them bushes and wait,” he added before step- 
ping guardedly ashore. Don’t show your- 
self until you hear me whistle like a partridge 
(the quail was the bird he thus mistakenly 
called), and don’t git oneasy if I’m gone long ; 
it may take me a good while.” 

Though by no means anxious to venture 
into a hostile Indian camp, Julian scarcely 
relished the inactive role assigned to him. 
But the wisdom of the plan was evident, and 
he made no objection. To leave the canoe 
unguarded was to hazard the loss of their only 
means of escape. It could be hauled ashore 
and hidden in the brush, to be sure, but the 
effort required to launch it again would in- 
volve serious inconvenience should a hasty 
retreat become necessary. 


In the Camp of the Creeks 35 

So with a parting whisper, ** Be careful, 
Dan,^' the boy paddled backward behind the 
screen of some tall rushes, grasped an over- 
hanging branch, and held the canoe at anchor. 
It was the first time he had called the trapper 
by his Christian name, though he had been 
invited to do so. From the first their friend- 
ship had developed rapidly and the present 
adventure served to draw them still nearer to- 
gether. Besides, the difference in their ages 
was not as great as it appeared. Though a 
giant in stature, the fair-haired Dan was only 
twenty-two. 

While Julian waited, full of impatience and 
apprehension, wondering what the continued 
yelling in the supposed Indian camp could 
mean, Dan was stealthily drawing near the 
scene of the tumult, moving slowly and hug- 
ging the cover of the trees and brush. The 
larger island, like the smaller one, appeared 
to be rimmed by a hammock growth of trees 
and dense underbrush, and as long as he re- 
mained within such limits he would be safe 


36 In the Camp of the Creeks 

from observation, provided no sentinels were 
stationed in the vicinity, but in the compara- 
tively open pine woods beyond he must run 
greater risk. 

No sooner had he reached the inner bord- 
ers of the hammock than it was clear to Dan 
that a considerable band of Indians was en- 
camped on the island. No less than twenty 
cloth tents were distinguished from where he 
stood, while others no doubt had place in the 
dim perspective beyond. In an open space 
near the probable centre of the encampment 
upward of fifty Indian warriors were dancing 
around a lofty upright pole, brandishing 
knives and hatchets and uttering blood-curd- 
ling yells. 

Having learned that the marauding Creeks 
were indeed established on the island, and 
further, judging from their antics, that they 
were on the war path, most men would have 
turned back and hurried to the outer world 
with the news, especially as it was dangerous 
to go on. But Dan Dennard had not seen 


In the Camp of the Creeks 37 

enough to satisfy him. Look where he would, 
he could detect no sign of any one on the 
watch, and was led to conclude that sentinels 
were not stationed on this inward shore of the 
island, no attack from the deep water side 
being feared. Emboldened by this, and urged 
on by youthful curiosity and the desire to 
learn as nearly as possible the exact strength 
of the enemy, he took the risk and pushed for- 
ward, now walking bent double in the shadow 
of a pine, now creeping on hands and knees 
through the wire-grass or broomsedge. 

In this way he drew near enough to view 
the whole encampment, and to conclude from 
the condition of the leaves and branches lying 
about that the Indians had been on the spot 
for twenty-four hours if not longer. In addi- 
tion to several brush shelters thatched with 
palmetto fans, he counted thirty-six clotli 
tents and estimated that the encampment con- 
tained no less than three hundred persons, 
including squaws and children. The great 
number of horses and mules which he saw 


38 In the Camp of the Creeks 

confined within a roped inclosure also proved 
that the band was a large one. 

The number of the Indians gave the self- 
appointed scout less concern than did the 
manifest and startling evidence that war was 
already begun. The antics of the half-naked 
creatures, as they shrieked and danced round 
the pole near the centre of the camp, might 
have provoked a pitying smile, had not cer- 
tain hairy objects hanging from the pole itself 
been the unmistakable source of all this wild 
night revelry. It required only a glance, on 
reaching a favorable point of vantage, to con- 
vince Dan that these objects were human 
scalps. They were nine in all, and the deep- 
est horror and wrath were stirred in him on 
observing that the hair of three of them was 
long, indicating that not even women had 
been spared. 

The squaws also took part in this barbarous 
festivity, not joining in the dance, but stand- 
ing about in animated groups, now laughing, 
now screeching, now swaying their bodies 


In the Camp of the Creeks 39 

back and forth in time to the monotonous 
music of a native drum, a kind of squeaky 
flute or pipe, and a tom-tom, or species of 
tambourine. Some of the warriors who 
danced, as well as the attendant musicians, 
were provided with dried gourds in which 
were pebbles, and the harsh rattle of these 
added to the inharmonious din. The Creeks 
of that day were in some ways more civilized 
than the average Indian tribe, but they were 
not above taking the scalps of women and 
children when on the war path, and gloating 
over the relics of such carnage in the scalp 
dance. 

Having changed his base of observation 
several times and learned all he could as to 
the strength and equipment of the hostile 
band, Dan was about to turn and quit the 
dangerous neighborhood, when his attention 
was drawn to a commotion accompanied by 
loud shouts in that quarter of the camp 
farthest away from where he stood. Loath to 
go without learning the cause of all this, he 


40 In the Camp of the Creeks 

tarried until several horsemen were seen to 
ride within the circle of light about one of the 
more distant fires, where they were at once 
surrounded by a crowd of women and chil- 
dren who gesticulated excitedly and uttered 
cries of joy. The disturbance was so great 
that the attention of the dancers around the 
pole was drawn to it, and, apparently recog- 
nizing its cause, they left off their antics and 
rushed in a body to meet the newcomers. 

It was at once clear to Dan that a second 
war party had returned from an expedition 
beyond the borders of the swamp probably 
bringing fresh trophies to be hung on the 
pole. He counted six warriors astride of as 
many horses, all wet and muddy from their 
recent passage through a portion of the sub- 
merged swamp. In their midst rode a 
seventh person who at first appeared to be a 
white boy, but as the party advanced into 
stronger light the face and figure of a young 
girl were recognized. Instead of or in addi- 
tion to scalps, this party evidently brought a 


In the Camp of the Creeks 41 


captive. The triumphant cries of the squaws, 
as they surrounded the prisoner’s horse, gab- 
bling to each other and doubtless reviling the 
victim, left no room for doubt. 

At once a wild plan of lying in the woods 
until the camp was hushed in sleep and then 
attempting the rescue of the unfortunate 
young woman began to take shape in Dan’s 
mind. She was too far away for him to see 
anything familiar in her face and he con- 
cluded that she was a person unknown to 
him, doubtless captured on the far side of the 
swamp. This, however, in no way influenced 
him, and when he gave up the plan of imme- 
diate rescue, it was only because he thought 
it was his first duty to hasten beyond the 
borders of the swamp and warn all persons of 
their great danger, especially the inmates of 
Cyrus Keswick’s house. 

As soon, therefore, as the captive was 
assisted from her horse and led by two squaws 
into a neighboring tent, and he had carefully 
noted the position of this tent, Dan began his 


42 In the Camp of the Creeks 

retreat. He had heard stories of white 
captives burned at the stake in past times, but 
believed that no harm would be done the 
young woman before next day ; and by that 
time he confidently expected to guide a party 
of soldiers to the rescue. So it was without 
great anxiety on her account that he now 
crept away through the grass and bushes to- 
ward the hammock growth. Once there, he 
walked erect and as rapidly as possible 
toward the point where the canoe had been 
left, with little fear of encountering sentinels. 

It seemed to the imaginative Julian that 
hours passed while he anxiously awaited 
Dan^s return. He almost believed he was 
never again to hear anything but those 
monotonous cries coming from the camp, the 
mournful sweep of the wind through the 
pines, and the occasional hooting of an owl. 
When at last, the promised whistle of a quail 
was heard, it was so like the cry of the wary 
bird itself that the boy wondered if his 
friend could really have uttered it. Never- 


In the Camp of the Creeks 43 

theless he promptly let go of the overhanging 
branch, and as the canoe glided out from 
cover he saw Dan’s upright figure at the 
water’s edge. 

The moment he stepped aboard Julian 
began to question him, but Dan remained 
silent until they were a long way up the 
creek and out of harm’s way. Arriving at 
the point where the more open water of the 
stream had to be abandoned for the tortuous 
trail by jungle and winding bayou, a torch 
was again necessary, and while the boy cut 
some shavings of resinous pine and struck 
fire with a flint and steel, Dan told his story. 

There’s two or three runaway niggers in 
the camp,” he concluded, and I reckon they 
must ’a’ showed the Injuns in to Big Island.” 
He thought that otherwise, being strangers in 
the region, they would hardly have known 
that so safe a retreat was at hand. Clearly 
they had established themselves there until 
the whites, thinking them departed for 
Florida, could be taken by surprise, or the 


44 In the Camp of the Creeks 

better to resist the force expected to be sent 
in pursuit of them ; and it was probable that 
the recent scalp-hunting expedition of a de- 
tachment of the band was not approved of 
by the older and wiser heads. 

However this might be, Dan and Julian 
were alike eager to carry the news to the 
Keswick farm and the canoe was pushed for- 
ward with all possible speed, the boy mean- 
while kneeling in the bow and holding aloft 
the torch, the better to afford them light and 
make sure of the uncertain landmarks of 
their course. 


CHAPTER IV 


GRIEF AT THE KESWICK FARM 

The Keswick farm was nearer the south- 
eastern borders of the Chickasawhatchee than 
any other, its back clearing being not more 
than two miles from the outskirts of the 
swamp. Nevertheless it escaped the Indian 
raid, the band having issued forth from the 
southwestern side and attacked the settle- 
ments nearest that point. 

The result of this raid, according to an 
account in “ Whitens Historical Collections 
of Georgia,” was the killing of a gen- 
tleman whose name we have forgotten, 
with his wife and three children, also 
Mr. William Hicks and a Mr. Padget and 
his two children.” The account further 
states that the Indians retired into the 
Chickasawhatchee swamp and took possession 
of an island in the middle of it, where they 
45 


46 In the Camp of the Creeks 

prepared to defend themselves against any 
attack which might be made by the whites/^ 
Such was the terrifying news that reached 
the Keswick farm on the evening of June 27, 
1836. Mr. Cyrus Keswick, who had done 
good service in the war of the Revolution 
and in several struggles with the Creek 
Indians later on, was now a rather feeble old 
man of seventy-three. All his children were 
married and settled at a distance, his wife was 
dead, and his only companions on the lonely 
frontier farm were his adopted niece, Maggie, 
and about a dozen negro slaves. Only six 
hundred acres of his extensive tract of land 
were cleared, and on these were cultivated 
cotton, corn, sweet potatoes, sugar-cane and 
upland rice. His dwelling, furnished in the 
simple and primitive style of the time and 
place, was the old-fashioned double-pen log 
house with a wide, open hallway running 
through the centre, a long piazza across the 
front, and a couple of ‘‘ shed rooms in the 
rear. 


In the Camp of the Creeks 47 

Mr. Keswick had eaten a belated supper 
and seated himself on the front piazza to en- 
joy a pipe, but the fragrant, home-raised 
tobacco failed to yield the usual measure of 
comfort. He was just now the only white 
person on the place, and though this was by 
no means unusual or annoying, to-night the 
old man felt uneasy and depressed. His 
visiting nephew Julian, having finally 
wheedled permission, was gone, as has been 
told, on an excursion into the Chickasawhat- 
chee with Dan Dennard, and his niece and 
housekeeper Maggie was supposed to be at a 
neighboring farm. The boy was not expected 
before the following day, and his absence, 
though it made the house seem lonely, was 
no occasion for alarm. But Maggie had 
ridden away for a visit of only a few hours, 
intending to return before night, and now it 
was nearly nine o’clock. 

That tobacco ain’t what it used to be,” 
muttered the old man, grumblingly, as he 
rose to walk through the '' entry.” Halting 


48 In the Camp of the Creeks 

near the steps of the back porch, he called 
several times, and a negro presently ap- 
proached from an outhouse. Jesse,’’ he 
then said in an anxious way, “ git on a horse 
and ride over to Mich’ Hightower’s. If 
Maggie aims to stay all night, all right ; I 
jes’ want to know. That may be what’s the 
matter, but somehow I’m dreadful oneasy to- 
night.” 

The negro hurried to the horse-lot and five 
minutes later took the road. Meanwhile the 
old planter reseated himself on the front 
piazza and resumed his pipe. The night was 
clear, calm and warm. A whippoorwill 
sounded its monotonous call from a neighbor- 
ing grove and was answered by another at a 
greater distance. Anon these hushed their 
cries or flitted beyond hearing, and only the 
occasional hooting of a distant owl broke the 
deep silence. The lonely old man felt glad 
to think that the cabins of his household 
servants and field hands were within call. 

It was nearer ten o’clock than nine when 


In the Camp of the Creeks 49 

rapid hoof strokes were heard on the road 
leading up through the pine woods, and 
presently the outlines of two horses were 
visible near the gate. Mr. Keswick felt great 
relief at the thought that his niece was re- 
turning, attended by the faithful Jesse, until 
he recollected that the Hightower place was 
four miles distant and sufficient time had not 
elapsed. As the newcomers announced their 
arrival by a loud ‘‘ Hello ! ” he rose from his 
chair and called out : “ Who’s that ? ” 

Dr. Foscue and Tommy Lumpkin.” 

Hitch and come in, boys,” invited Mr. 
Keswick, wondering at the lateness of the 
visit, but glad of the arrival. Two men were 
now seen hurriedly walking up the path to 
the house. 

“ We’ve come to tell you the news,” said 
the foremost, leaping up the steps, a thin, 
bearded man of thirty, at once recognized as 
the doctor. 

Where’s Miss Maggie and Julian ? You- 
all better be in a hurry,” panted the other, a 


50 In the Camp of the Creeks 

much younger man whose voice indicated 
great excitement. 

‘‘What’s all this, boys?” asked Mr. Kes- 
wick, noting that both carried rifles. 

“ The Indians are here ! They killed 
Hicks and Padget and his two children and 
the whole Todd family to-day,” explained 
Dr. Foscue. 

“ Great Master ! And — and Todd’s ain’t 
more’n three miles from Hightower’s I ” ex- 
claimed Mr. Keswick, his upraised hands 
trembling violently. “ Oh, Maggie, Mag- 
gie ! ” 

The visitors demanded in a breath to know 
what this meant and soon learned. They 
were visibly alarmed, but Dr. Foscue took a 
hopeful view. 

“ From what I could hear in Newton,” he 
said presently, “ the massacre was over and 
done long before Maggie was anywhere near 
the neighborhood. Most likely the militia 
found her at Hightower’s and sent her with 
the family to Newton. They wouldn’t trust 


In the Camp of the Creeks 51 

her to ride over here by herself. Don’t fret, 
Uncle Cyrus, I believe she’s all right. The 
militia started out as soon as the news came, 
to take charge of the bodies and warn every- 
body to gather in to Newton as fast as 
possible. Any of ’em come this way 
yet?” 

No, this is the first news I’ve had. It’s 
mighty strange nobody come over to tell us 
from Sessum’s or Hightower’s. They must 
’a’ know’d.” 

I was afraid you might not get warning in 
time. So Tom agreed to come with me and 
let you know. We’d have come sooner, but 
I’ve been with a patient down on the Flint all 
day, and didn’t get up to Newton and hear 
the news till night.” 

They say Tom Carr recognized a chief 
who was in the raid up in Stewart,” put in 
young Lumpkin, “ and he thinks it’s the 
same band. If it is, there ain’t less than 
three hundred of ’em. The Baker militia is 
jubous about attackin’ ’em before more troops 


52 In the Camp of the Creeks 

come. They’re camped in the Chickasa- 
Avhatchee.” 

Again Mr. Keswick uttered a cry of grief 
and made haste to tell them the present 
whereabouts of the boy Julian and Dan 
Dennard. 

It was mighty unfortunate they went in 
to-day,” said Dr. Foscue. '' They’ll just have 
to take their chances. The only thing for 
you to do is to get ready right off and go back 
with us to Newton. Miss Maggie is there by 
now no doubt. Hurry and get your valu- 
ables together. We’ve got a good piece to 
go, and who knows but what the Indians 
may ” 

I won’t go until I know Maggie’s all 
right,” interrupted the grieving old man, with 
a stubborn air. “ S’pose’n she was to come 
here after we left ? ” 

The doctor insisted that there was not even 
the remotest likelihood of this and again 
urged haste. As for Julian and Dan, should 
they turn up, word could be left for them 


In the Camp of the Creeks 53 

with the negroes. No one thought of flight 
as necessary or even desirable for the latter, 
as they were in no danger from the Indians, 
except when found fighting in the ranks of 
the whites. Ever since the beginning of the 
century and before, it had been a common oc- 
currence for runaway slaves to take refuge 
with the Creeks and Seminoles, and in some 
cases they had intermarried with members of 
the latter tribe, whose continuous policy it 
was in time of war to ravage the planta- 
tions and carry off the often not unwilling 
slaves. 

Mr. Keswick was finally so far persuaded 
by the arguments of the doctor as to consent 
to call a negro and order a horse and buggy 
to be gotten in readiness. But he was loath to 
yield to the advice of the two young men, 
and, although he saw that they chafed at the 
delay, he purposely prolonged his preparations 
for departure. And so when Jesse galloped 
up at eleven o’clock, the party had not yet set 
out. 


54 In the Camp of the Creeks 

She ain’t dere/’ was the negro’s answer to 
the questions put to him. ‘‘ De Hightowers 
is all gone to town, but some de black folks 
still dere, and dey tole me Miss Maggie lef 
dere ’bout five o’clock dis evenin’, befo’ any- 
body got de news ’bout de Injuns. She rid 
off by herself and de Injuns must ’a’ got her, 
for nobody ain’t seen her sence ; and Isam he 
say he seen de Injuns cotch a white lady and 
carry her off late dis evenin’ — Isam what 
b’long to de Sessum place. I stop by dere to- 
night on my way back. Isam was splittin’ 
rails, he say, way off de road next de branch 
when he seen a young white lady come ridin’ 
long by herself. He ain’t had time to tell 
who she was, when lo and behold a whole 
passel o’ Injuns jumpt out de bushes and 
grabbed her bridle and led her off in de 
woods, and she a-screamin’. Den Isam say he 
up and made tracks for home quick as he 
could. When I tole him ’bout Miss Maggie, 
he say if it wasn’t her it was somebody pine- 
blank like her. I reckon it must ’a’ been Miss 


In the Camp of the Creeks 55 

Maggie, Mas’ Cyrus,” the negro concluded, 
sorrowfully. 

Poor old Mr. Keswick broke down com- 
pletely, bursting into tears and sobs as he col- 
lapsed into his chair. Oh, Maggie, my 
child ! he groaned. “ If I was only young 
and strong — if I was only the man I used to 
be 

There’s plenty of us young and strong,” 
interrupted Dr. Foscue, excitedly, “ and we 
don’t intend to be idle either. We’ll have her 
out of that swamp to-morrow if we have to 
cut down every tree in it to find her.” 

“ We’ll get the militia to attack ’em right 
away,” promised Tommy Lumpkin with a 
forced air of confidence, although, to judge 
from his agitated manner, it seemed doubtful 
if he could be counted on to take a hand 
himself. 

They’ll feel compelled to do it if there’s a 
man among ’em,” added the doctor. '' They 
won’t wait for reinforcements, for that might 
take a week. Every able-bodied man in and 


56 In the Camp of the Creeks 

around Newton ought to agree to follow the 
militia into that swamp to-morrow.’’ 

Lumpkin proceeded to add the weight of 
his own predictions along the same line, but 
the doctor interrupted him to urge an imme- 
diate departure. 

“ Don’t fret, Uncle Cyrus ; we’ll save her,” 
he promised. All we can do now is to get 
to Newton as fast as horses can carry us. 
We’ll have a heap to do before morning, for 
the militia won’t start for the swamp later 
than sun-up if I can help it.” 

Mr. Keswick had grown calmer as he lis- 
tened, and he now gave his last orders to Jesse 
and through him to the other hands. Then 
he caught up a bundle and announced that 
he was ready to start. 

At this moment a dog began to bark in the 
yard, steps were shortly heard on the piazza, 
Dan and Julian appeared in the doorway, 
walked into the room and dropped w^earily 
into the nearest seats. 


CHAPTER V 


TO THE EESCUE 

Great was the surprise of all and un- 
bounded the satisfaction of Mr. Keswick, who 
relapsed into a chair, and calling Julian to 
him, patted the boy affectionately on the 
back. So great was his delight that he 
chuckled audibly , for the moment losing 
sight of the fate of poor Maggie. 

The red rascals didn’t ketch you after all, 
then, Julian?” he exclaimed. 

“ Did you see any signs of the Indians in 
the swamp?” Dr. Foscue meanwhile inquired 
of the panting Dan. 

Let alone signs, I saw a camp of two or 
three hundred of ’em,” was the answer. 

That’s why we come out to-night in such 
a hurry — to give warnin’.” Dan’s story was 
told in the briefest possible way, the interjec- 
tions of the others meanwhile conveying to 

57 


58 In the Camp of the Creeks 

his mind the main facts of the Indian raid. 
“ They Ve got a white woman on the island,” 
he concluded. They brung her in late 
while I was watchin^ ^em.” 

“ And to think it’s my little Maggie ! ” 
groaned Mr. Keswick. 

Dan uttered a single exclamation of horror, 
and then as they explained to him he re- 
mained motionless and dumb, a look of fiery 
determination in his eyes. Dr. Foscue now 
announced that they must be moving and 
recommended the young trapper to borrow a 
horse, accompany them to town, and make 
one of the party of rescue expected to start 
early next day. Mr. Keswick meanwhile 
rose to go, telling Julian that they would 
ride together in the buggy. Dan did not rise 
and merely crossed one of his huge legs over 
the other. 

I ain’t a-goin’ to Newton to-night,” he 
said in response to glances of astonishment. 
‘‘ I aim to go straight back in that swamp. 
You all know what for, I reckon. Who’ll go 


In the Camp of the Creeks 59 

with me?’' He looked hard at Dr. Foscue, 
who seemed a little nervous under such scru- 
tiny. Will you, Dr. Jim? ” 

Not I, Dan,” was the prompt answer. I 
don’t think I’m a coward, and I believe I’m 
ready to fight for Maggie as long as anybody, 
but there’s a limit to what a man can do. I 
believe in reason. No use going wild. The 
thing for us three men to do is to join the 
militia and march into that swamp to-mor- 
row.” 

The militia ain’t strong enough and they 
know it,” replied Dan. They’ll wait for 
help, if it takes a week. If forty men march 
in that swamp to-morrow, as likely as not 
the last one o’ their scalps will hang from 
that pole by night.” 

“ And yet you want me to go in there to- 
night with just you ! ” 

That’s the p’int,” was the cool reply. 

The only chance is to slip in on the sly. I 
know what tent they put her in and if I had 
one good man to go with me and keep watch 


6o In the Camp of the Creeks 

in the canoe while I sneaked in the camp, I 
believe we’d stand a good chance o’ havin’ 
Miss Maggie safe before mornin’. But Dr. 
Jim won’t go. Will you go, Tommy? ” 

Young Lumpkin was visibly agitated as he 
faced the eye of the questioner. He stood on 
one foot and then on the other, as he an- 
swered in a shaken voice, borrowing from the 
doctor : 

“ It ain’t reason. I believe in reason. No 
use goin’ wild.” 

At this moment, as the result of some acci- 
dent, a puppy ran yelping into the room, the 
same that Miss Maggie had nicknamed 
“ Tommy.” Giving it a vigorous shove with 
his foot, Julian sent it howling out into the 
entry, then whispered to Dan : 

“ That kick was meant for its namesake.” 

‘‘ I believe in reason,” repeated Tommy 
Lumpkin, uneasily. 

So you won’t go either ? Then I’ll go by 
my lone self,” said Dan, bringing his fist 
down with great force on a table near him. 



“THEN I’LL GO BY MYSELF” 








In the Camp of the Creeks 6i 

“ All right, then. I hope you won’t be 
sorry. Discretion is the better part of valor, 
my lad,” said the doctor. 

Dan made no reply. Convinced that argu- 
ment was useless. Dr. Foscue turned away 
and marched out to mount his horse, followed 
by Lumpkin. Julian was now seen writing 
rapidly with a pencil on a sheet of paper lying 
on the sitting-room table, apparently giving 
no further heed to what was going on. 

“ It’s easy to see who cares the most for 
Maggie,” said Mr. Keswick softly, as he and 
the young trapper left the house together. 
“ But be cai*eful, my boy ; be careful, Dan.” 

‘‘ I will,” was the assurance. “ I believe in 
‘ reason ’ as much as the rest of ’em for that 
matter. Good-night, Mr. Keswick.” 

As soon as they were outside the gate Dan 
turned off to the left and walked hurriedly 
along a path through the pine woods. In his 
unusual preoccupation he had forgotten to 
say a parting word to his young comrade of 
the evening’s adventures. Sad at heart and 


62 In the Camp of the Creeks 

somewhat bewildered by all that had hap- 
pened, Mr. Keswick also forgot Julian, walk- 
ing on to the hitching-post without observing 
the boy^s absence. But as the old man was 
assisted into the buggy by Jesse, the others, 
who had long since mounted, asked impa- 
tiently for Julian. It was supposed that he 
was collecting a few articles of clothing, or 
some of his more precious belongings against 
the possibility of the house being looted by 
the Creeks, and Jesse was sent in haste to 
summon him. The negro returned shortly, 
torch in hand, but without the lad. 

He gone,” said Jesse with a wondering 
air. He ain’t in de house nowheres. But I 
found dis yuh on de table.” 

Mr. Keswick took the sheet of paper that 
was handed to him, and holding it up in the 
light of the torch, read the following : 

'' Dear Uncle Cyrus : 

'' I am going with Dan. I didn’t say 
anything to you about it because I knew 
you would not like it. Dan doesn’t know it 


In the Camp of the Creeks 63 

either. Somebody has got to go to keep watch 
in the canoe and nobody else is willing. 
Good-bye, and don’t mind. Cousin Maggie 
and all of us will see you in Newton by to- 
morrow night. 

“ Your nephew, 

“ Julian.” 

The venturesome boy’s calm confidence 
awakened no responsive echo in his distressed 
old uncle, who uttered a groan and looked 
helplessly at Dr. Foscue. “ Run after him, 
Jesse, and bring him back,” he exclaimed 
after a moment. 

Dunno which way he gone,” said the 
negro, hesitating. He ain’t gwine let you 
ketch him — he too sharp, you see him so.” 

Jesse is right,” said the doctor impa- 
tiently. The boy will have to take the con- 
sequences, though that wild fellow Dan is 
really to blame. We can’t spend the night 
on a wild goose chase after Julian.” 

The Lord protect him and Maggie,” 
groaned Mr. Keswick, and the party set for- 
ward. 


64 In the Camp of the Creeks 

Having written his note and made sure that 
it would be seen by those who came to look 
for him, Julian caught up his rifle and 
quietly left the house by the back way. A 
few minutes later he leaped over a rail fence 
at the bottom of a field and hurried through 
a stretch of open pine woods until he reached 
a path evidently familiar to him. Then, 
having looked to right and left and listened, 
he sat down on a log to wait, confident that 
the short cut and his haste combined had 
brought him to the spot before Dan could 
have passed. 

Scarcely three minutes later a heavy tread 
was heard on the path and the outlines of the 
tall young trapper’s figure were seen. He 
walked forward incautiously and as Julian 
rose up, he started backward and covered the 
boy with his rifle. 

'' Don’t shoot,” laughed Julian ; it’s not 
an Indian this time.” 

“ What are you doin’ here? ” 

I’m going with you.” 


In the Camp of the Creeks 65 

The mischief you are ! ” 

The boy then told how he had slipped away 
leaving a note behind. I want to save Cousin 
Maggie as much as you do,” he added ear- 
nestly, and I’m goin’ to go with you and help. 
I’m only a boy, but I believe you’d rather 
have me than Tommy Lumpkin any day.” 

“ You’re right, I would, Julian. Tommy 
ain’t worth the powder and shot it would take 
to kill him. But I’m afraid the job is too 
risky for a young un like you, though you 
ain’t as scary as some men I know.” 

I am fifteen,” said the boy proudly. 

“Yes, but you had better go back, Julian.” 

“ And walk to Newton by myself? No, 
sir. They’re gone by now. The Indians can’t 
catch me if I stay in the canoe.” 

Dan was silent a few moments, considering 
what to do. “ It’s a big responsibility to carry 
a boy on such a trip,” he said at last, “ but 
Miss Maggie’s got to be taken away from them 
red imps and I need somebody to watch 
the canoe. If you’re set on it, Julian, come 


66 In the Camp of the Creeks 

along. But you must stay in the canoe. 
You mustn’t put your foot on that island.” 

“ Let’s hurry, then,” said Julian, avoiding 
a direct promise. Though a brave lad, he was 
far from desiring to court more risk than was 
necessary ; but, not knowing what might hap- 
pen, he wished to be free to act according to 
circumstances. 

It was now a little past midnight and time 
was precious. Without more ado, therefore, 
they made straight for the swamp. Dan 
would have liked to visit his farm before going 
into the Chickasawhatchee again in order to 
leave directions and make some disposition of 
his valuables against a possible Indian raid, 
but he felt that it was out of the question. 
Luckily he had no mother or sister to be 
anxious about. He lived almost alone in his 
little clearing, without other companionship 
than that of a free negro who helped to farm 
the land and received in payment a just share 
of the crops. The negro’s wife looked after 
the affairs of the young landlord’s house and 


In the Camp of the Creeks 67 

cooked his meals. These two had little to 
fear from the Indians and could be left to take 
care of themselves. 

Thirty-five minutes of rapid walking brought 
the two adventurers to the borders of the 
swamp, where they halted to light a torch be- 
fore penetrating the jungle. In that dense 
growth of trees their light could not be seen 
from afar and was not a source of danger. At 
any rate, without it they would inevitably go 
astray. The canoe being found undisturbed 
at the edge of the black, sluggish bayou, they 
got afioat without delay. The torch was now 
more than ever a necessity, a boat-path being 
more easily lost in the night than a trail by 
land. 

Once, in choosing from no less than three 
dimly-seen openings among the trees ahead, 
Dan did go astray and nearly an hour was 
lost before he felt assured of being on the right 
track again. And once it was found neces- 
sary to go out of their course in order to avoid 
a possible encounter with some fierce wild 


68 In the Camp of the Creeks 

animal. They saw the sheen of its glaring 
eyes among thick branches beneath which 
their course led, and as the canoe drew nearer, 
the creature uttered a threatening growl. 

“ It’s a wild cat or a panther,” whispered 
Dan. “ If we paddle under there and it’s a 
panther, as likely as not it’ll jump on us. We 
don’t want to shoot if we can help it, and 
we’ve got no time to waste on a fight any- 
how.” 

So they departed from their course, even at 
the risk of losing the trail, and thus more 
time was lost. It was nearly three o’clock 
when they finally came out in the open creek 
current and Julian was told to extinguish the 
light. The darkness that then surrounded 
them was intense. After a few minutes the 
outlines of trees and water became a little 
more clear, hut Dan soon realized that since 
they entered the swamp the sky had become 
overcast with clouds. However, he contrived 
to keep his bearings and make headway. In 
no great while they saw a dark rise of land 


In the Camp of the Creeks 69 

before them and knew that Big Island was 
reached. 

The Indian encampment was now dark and 
quiet. Not a fire burned and not a sound 
disturbed the hush resting upon swamp and 
island. Julian thought the camp must have 
been deserted, but Dan was not deceived. 
He knew that the Indians felt secure in the 
strength of their position and now lay in 
the deep sleep of the darkest hours before 
dawn. It was, therefore, the best of all times 
for the execution of his daring scheme. 

Advising Julian to paddle over into the 
bushes again and remain concealed until he 
heard, as before, the cry of a quail, the brave 
young man stepped ashore and disappeared. 


CHAPTER VI 


EETREAT CUT OFF 

The intense darkness resulting from the 
clouded sky was a mixed advantage. While 
furnishing the obscurity desirable for Dan^s 
operations, it also surrounded him with un- 
seen dangers that a little more light might 
have revealed. On approaching the borders 
of the camp he was every moment afraid of 
stumbling upon a sentinel and betraying his 
presence, but he continued to draw nearer 
without encountering any such dangers as he 
feared. 

Except for the occasional bark of a dog on 
the farther side, fully an eighth of a mile dis- 
tant, the encampment seemed as quiet as the 
grave. Whenever this sound was heard Dan 
stopped short in his tracks, full of apprehen- 
sion. What he feared most of all was that he 
would be scented out and exposed by the 

70 


In the Camp of the Creeks 71 


Indians’ dogs. He would have breathed 
more freely had he known that every dog 
belonging to the camp was tied up, for a rea- 
son that will be explained later. 

The ghostly outlines of several of the tents 
were seen as if in a mist, and Dan was gradu- 
ally approaching the spot whence he counted 
on locating that one into which Maggie had 
been conducted, when an unforeseen accident 
occurred. As he crawled forward on hands 
and knees, dragging his rifle softly beside 
him, he drew near what in the darkness he 
took to be a clump of bushes, and behind 
which he expected to stand erect and look 
well about him before going on. Great was 
his astonishment when the supposed bushes 
suddenly broke away with a frightened snort, 
and he saw the form of an Indian pony that 
had been left out to graze, snapping the cord 
that bound it and dashing madly away through 
the encampment, a small bell, evidently at- 
tached to its neck, ringing out with frightful 
distinctness. 


72 In the Camp of the Creeks 

Running backward some fifty feet, in a 
twinkling Dan dropped into cover between a 
clump of fan-pal mettoes and a fallen pine. 
It was soon evident that many in the camp 
were awakened. Lights appeared and voices 
were heard. The pony was captured and the 
bell stilled. Then a party of several Creek 
warriors approached the spot where the ani- 
mal had taken fright, but luckily for Dan 
they were not accompanied by a dog and did 
not trouble themselves with a careful exami- 
nation of the ground. They evidently con- 
cluded that the bell-pony had been startled by 
some prowling beast that could do no harm, 
and soon retraced their steps, quelling the 
alarm in the camp. 

Ten minutes later every light had again 
been extinguished and all was quiet, but Dan 
lay still fully an hour, not daring to proceed 
until well assured that slumber once more 
reigned in the camp. This enforced delay 
was the most trying part of his night’s work, 
for he was weary and in sore need of sleep. 


In the Camp of the Creeks 73 

It did not trouble him to keep awake and 
watchful while active, but his present passive 
role was positive torture. He now found it 
necessary to keep his hands and feet in motion 
almost constantly in order to remain awake 
and on the alert. 

He hoped that at least one good result, the 
awakening of Maggie, might come of the un- 
fortunate accident. Once roused, a person in 
her trying position would not readily fall 
asleep. While thinking of this, Dan observed 
that the skies were partially clearing, and 
neighboring landmarks were soon more dis- 
tinctly visible. Standing erect, he now lo- 
cated the position of Maggie’s tent and began 
guardedly to make his way thither, screened 
by clumps of bushes. 

A few minutes later he had crawled up 
within fifteen feet of the tent itself and lay 
hesitating in a patch of long grass or broom- 
sedge behind it. The tent was one of a long 
row reaching away in dim perspective on 
either hand, and was large enough to accom- 


74 In the Camp of the Creeks 

modate three or four persons. Dan knew, 
therefore, that Maggie was not alone. She 
was probably guarded by two or more Indian 
squaws, but being a white woman and consid- 
ered helpless, she probably had not been tied. 
Nevertheless a warrior might be on guard at 
the door. 

To satisfy himself on this point, Dan made 
a stealthy circuit of the tent, prepared to 
spring upon the foe and throttle him at any 
moment, but he found the way clear. Apply- 
ing his ear to the narrow opening between the 
curtains, he distinctly heard the breathing of 
several sleepers. What to do next was diffi- 
cult to determine. To enter in quest of Mag- 
gie would be the height of rashness. It would 
no doubt rouse all the women at once, and in 
a minute the whole camp would be brought 
about his ears by their cries. Nevertheless he 
must act without delay. The growing light 
in the eastern sky warned him that day would 
soon dawn. 

Returning to his former position in the 


In the Camp of the Creeks 75 

sedge a few feet behind the tent, Dan sank on 
his knees and uttered twice or thrice the cry 
of a quail. He thought this ought to attract 
Maggie’s attention, supposing her to be 
awake ; for one day not long since she was 
present while Julian was being taught to 
make the sound. Also because, if wide awake, 
she would be likely to regard the cry as an 
imitation. The wary quail does indeed 
roost ” in the grass on the ground at night, 
but far away from all human kind, nothing 
being so improbable as that it should choose 
its bed in the vicinity of a large encampment. 

A minute passed without response of any 
kind, and Dan began to fear that after all 
Maggie was asleep, or incapable of moving on 
account of bonds, or that the cry had not at- 
tracted her notice. He had again uttered the 
three notes of the quail’s whistle, and was 
about to take the risk of calling softly the 
girl’s name, when he saw the figure of a 
woman stealing around the tent. 

Over this way ! ” he exclaimed in a loud 


76 In the Camp of the Creeks 

whisper, the moment he was convinced that 
the figure was not that of a squaw. He was 
prompt to show himself by rising to his feet, 
and Maggie Keswick hastened to his side. 

‘‘Oh, it’s you?” she said, peering into his 
face. “ I thought it was Julian that whistled. 
What on earth made you take all this risk for 
me by yourself? You’ll get killed.” 

“ Come along quick — no time to talk,” said 
Dan, seizing her hand and drawing her after 
him. 

“ They didn’t tie me,” whispered Maggie a 
moment later, “ and if it hadn’t been here in 
the swamp I would have been out of that tent 
long ago. The two old squaws slept like logs. 
One was layin’ across the door and I had to 
step over her. That’s why I was so slow 
cornin’.” 

“ Tell me about it after we git to the canoe,” 
again cautioned Dan. 

He led the way rapidly into the bushes, 
thinking to avoid the borders of the camp 
along which he had crawled while searching 


In the Camp of the Creeks 77 

for the captive’s tent. In this way he un- 
knowingly approached the roped inclosure 
which contained the horses, and, as he darted 
around a tall clump of palmettoes, he found 
himself face to face with the upright figure 
of a Creek warrior. He was not a sentinel, it 
was clear, for he had no rifie ; concern for the 
horses had probably brought him out of his 
tent so early. His surprise was even more 
complete than Dan’s and for an instant he 
stood motionless ; but as the latter leaped for- 
ward, he started backward, drawing a knife. 

Profiting by the Indian’s momentary stupe- 
faction, Dan managed to seize him by the 
throat and check his involuntary shout of 
alarm. After that there was no time for a 
warning cry to be uttered, and the question 
of physical strength alone remained to decide 
the issue of mortal combat. The Indian was 
wrapped in a blanket, but as he recoiled, it 
fell to the ground, leaving him naked to the 
waist. This placed Dan at a disadvantage in 
the struggle, but he counted on his probable 


78 In the Camp of the Creeks 

superiority in strength. He had dropped his 
rifle at the outset, not daring to shoot and 
alarm the camp ; his plan was to throttle or 
stun his foe. But, though gasping for breath 
and not likely to endure long the iron grip on 
his wind-pipe, the Indian had a knife in his 
hand and the outcome of the struggle was ex- 
ceedingly doubtful. 

After the first few strides Dan had relin- 
quished Maggie’s hand, and as he darted 
round the clump of palmettoes she was a few 
steps behind. She appeared on the scene 
just in time to see the struggling figures of 
the two men fall heavily to the ground ap- 
parently locked in each other’s arms. 

Hurry on to the canoe ! ” Dan found 
breath to say, as he marked her approach 
from the tail of his eye, forgetting that the 
place where Julian awaited them was un- 
known to her. 

But the girl would have remained on the 
spot in any case until the issue of the struggle 
W9/3 known » Her foot struck upon the fallen 


In the Camp of the Creeks 79 

rifle and she promptly picked it up and held 
herself in readiness to use it, looking around 
for other enemies. Fortunately none ap- 
peared. All her attention was then centered 
on the struggle going on in the darkness 
almost at her feet. She longed to give Dan 
aid, but knew not how. She listened to the 
tearing of the grass beneath the bodies of the 
struggling men, the cracking of their joints, 
the heavy breathing of one, the strangling 
gasps of the other, and grew cold with fear 
that her rescuer might not win. 

In great dread she stepped nearer, clutch- 
ing the rifle and stooping over the two writh- 
ing figures. Every moment the dawning 
light had grown stronger, and she now clearly 
saw that Dan was uppermost, his left hand 
grasping the wrist of the Indian’s that held 
the knife and the fingers of his right buried 
in the red man’s throat. She also saw that 
the unfortunate Creek warrior was literally 
being strangled. The struggle was soon over. 
Dan shook himself free, hi^ huge figure rose. 


8o In the Camp of the Creeks 

and the Indian remained stretched on the 
ground. 

“ Lucky for me he wasn’t as strong as he 
mought ’a’ been,” the young man panted. 

The dawning light was sufficient now to 
outline the clustering tents behind them and 
doubtless the encampment would soon be 
alive with the newly-awakened. The chances 
of a safe retreat to the canoe were lessened 
each moment. Catching up the Indian’s 
blanket, Dan threw it over Maggie’s shoul- 
ders, for she was thinly clothed and shivered 
in the cool morning air. Then bidding her 
follow, he hurried forward, bending his body 
almost double as he went and keeping a sharp 
lookout on either hand. 

After making the desired circuit, dodging 
in and out among the clumps of palmettoes 
dotting the open pine woods, they presently 
gained the hammock growth without having 
as yet attracted attention from the camp. A 
few minutes of rapid walking then brought 
them to the margin of the water where Dan 


In the Camp of the Creeks 8i 

had disembarked, and, having uttered the 
quail whistle softly, the young man seated 
himself wearily on a log. 

I’m plumb wore out. Miss Maggie,” he 
said, and, looking up, felt gratified to see the 
friendliest of smiles on her face. “ Soon’s I 
get you over to Little Island you’ll be all 
right, and then I can take time to breathe,” 
he added. 

It was now almost broad daylight and ob- 
jects on the island behind them, as well as in 
the flooded swamp before them, were clearly 
visible at some distance. 

I never killed a man in a fight before,” 
Dan continued, after whistling again, a little 
louder. “ It ain’t what you might call fun, 
but I had to do it for you. Miss Maggie.” ^ 
Nobody can blame you,” the girl answered 
gently, shuddering as a vision of the Indian’s 
dying face passed before her mind. 

“ They started it,” he went on. They got 
nine of our scalps yistiddy, besides stealin’ 
you.” 


82 In the Camp of the Creeks 

Hush ! ” said Maggie suddenly. 

Cries of lamentation and yells of rage 
were heard from the direction of the camp. 
No doubt the escape of the prisoner had been 
discovered and possibly the body of the 
Indian. 

“ Let ’em yell,” chuckled Dan. They 
can’t ketch us without a canoe, and that they 
ain’t got, from all I could see.” 

‘‘ But where’s our canoe ? ” 

Dan abruptly bounded to his feet, anxiety 
succeeding his calm confidence. The possi- 
bility of an accident to Julian, snugly hid- 
den with the canoe in the bushes, had not 
occurred to him till now. In the vicinity of 
the proposed place of concealment, no living 
thing met his gaze but an alligator that 
floated lazily half out of the water. The 
canoe was nowhere to be seen and no answer 
came to the signal, though repeated again and 
again, each time more loudly. Dan hazarded 
the conjecture that the boy, weary of waiting, 
had paddled a short way up the creek for the 


In the Camp of the Creeks 83 

sake of amusement, but Maggie was sure that 
Julian could not be guilty of such frivolity 
when so much was at stake. She thought 
that he had either been captured or that some 
unaccountable accident had happened to him. 
As they discussed the question, they became 
suddenly aware that the cries at the camp 
had ceased. 

The Injuns dl be hot on our trail in less 
than five minutes,’’ said Dan, looking about 
him fiercely, and we’ve got to be movin’. 
No use waitin’ here for that boy. All we can 
do is to hurry along the shore o’ the island 
and try to git where it’s shallow enough to 
wade out before they ketch us. It’s shallow 
enough round on t’other side. That’ll be 
hard and nasty work for you, Miss Maggie, 
but it’s better than to git caught.” 

Go ahead ; I’m not afraid of mud and 
water,” answered the girl stoutly, though her 
face had turned pale. 

No further time was wasted in discussion. 
Though trembling with excitement and fear, 


84 In the Camp of the Creeks 

it was not without a feeling of confidence and 
security that Maggie breathlessly followed in 
the footsteps of her guide, as with great 
rapidity and without noise he made his way 
forward through the hammock growth, keep- 
ing always near the water’s edge. 


CHAPTER VII 


JULIAN OUTWITS THE ENEMY 

According to the plan agreed on, as soon 
as Dan leaped ashore, Julian paddled behind 
a screen of trees and bushes about a hundred 
yards away, and laying hold of an overhang- 
ing branch, he held the canoe at anchor. 
For fully an hour he remained alert, listening 
for sounds from the direction of the camp 
and forecasting Dan^s possible adventures. 
His position alone there in the dark swamp, 
with danger perhaps lurking on every hand, 
as well as his sense of responsibility, tended 
to keep him wakeful. 

But, having been either on the tramp or 
boating ever since noon of the previous day, 
he was now greatly fagged, and it was no 
wonder that at last drowsiness began to 
torture him and he persuaded himself that 
he might with safety lie down in the bottom 

85 


86 In the Camp of the Creeks 

of the canoe. Not to sleep — oh no ! — but 
only in order to secure greater comfort for his 
weary limbs. The result was inevitable. 
Within a short time after his change of posi- 
tion he lay fast asleep, still holding on 
mechanically to the anchoring branch. Had 
this status remained unchanged, all might 
yet have been well, for daylight and Dan’s 
whistles combined would doubtless have 
roused him. But ere long an exciting dream 
caused him to turn over, throw his arms 
about him and groan. Thus the anchoring 
branch was let go and the canoe slowly 
drifted away with the current of the creek. 

When Julian awoke it was morning. For 
a few moments he lay still in drowsy ecstasy, 
listening to the sweet notes of a wood-thrush 
and the cheerful chirping of several brown 
swamp-sparrows that fluttered from perch to 
perch within a short distance of the canoe. 
But as full wakefulness succeeded the first 
state of drowsy torpor, the boy opened wide 
his eyes and suddenly sat up in the canoe, a 


In the Camp of the Creeks 87 

prey to wild conjectures and bitter re- 
grets. 

He understood at once that the canoe had 
drifted away with the current, and had been 
carried, it was impossible to tell how far be- 
fore it lodged in its present position in a 
growth of rushes on the borders of the creek. 
Behind him was the submerged swamp 
stretching away indefinitely. In front of 
him was a screen of low bushes, beyond that 
the slow-moving water of the drowned creek, 
and beyond that again a rising ground free 
of water and covered with a varied forest 
growth, evidently another part of the island 
shore. A second glance showed the boy a 
narrow point of land running out from the 
main shore for more than a hundred yards 
into the swamp, causing the creek to diverge 
from its course in order to sweep around it. 
The land on this point was low and covered 
for the most part with a dense growth of non- 
bearing swamp huckleberry bushes. The 
width of the open creek being only a matter 


88 In the Camp of the Creeks 

of a few feet and its course winding, it 
seemed likely that the canoe had not floated 
far before lodging in its present place. 

It might he worth while, then, to push out 
and paddle up to the old position on the 
chance of being yet in time. Supposing his 
plans had succeeded, Dan had undoubtedly 
returned sometime ere this ; but might he 
not still be squatting in the bushes, whistling 
now and again like a quail and watching 
anxiously for the belated canoe ? Tortured 
by self-accusations and harried by varying 
conjectures, Julian was on the point of work- 
ing the canoe out into the open water when 
his attention was arrested by the sound of a 
breaking twig in the woods on the shore. 

A moment later he saw two human figures 
emerge into a little open space and he 
instantly recognized Dan and Maggie. Their 
mouths were open and they seemed to pant, 
as if they had been traveling with great 
speed, and the former seemed to be urging 
the latter to hurry forward while he halted a 


In the Camp of the Creeks 89 

few moments to listen for the sound of pur- 
suers on their track. Great was the boy’s 
delight at this unexpected good fortune, and 
nothing but a vivid recollection of the gravity 
of the situation prevented him from shouting 
aloud to his friends. He was in the act of 
showing himself above the sedge and uttering 
the familiar whistle when a harsh interrup- 
tion drowned the sound of his half-uttered 
signal. 

Maggie had hardly disappeared in the brush 
on the farther side of the open space when, 
with fierce yells, eight or ten Creek warriors 
leaped into view from different quarters and 
Dan was surrounded. With a glow of pride 
but with intense anxiety, Julian saw that his 
friend did not tamely submit. Though sur- 
prised and entrapped, he threw his rifie 
quickly to his shoulder, fired, and one of the 
Indians fell flat on his face. Then, in spite 
of the absolute hopelessness of it all, the desper- 
ate young man wielded his weapon like a flail, 
and succeeded in knocking down and dis- 


go In the Camp of the Creeks 

abling two more of his enemies before some 
four or five others were able to seize his arms 
and legs and, after a fierce struggle, bear him 
down. To take him alive was clearly their 
determination, for though all were armed, not 
one of the Indians aimed a weapon at him. 

Meanwhile poor Julian was in terrible dis- 
tress, doubtful what was his duty in the case. 
He had at first seized his rifle with manly res- 
olution, thinking to aid Dan by picking off 
an Indian from where he knelt in the canoe ; 
but so quickly was his friend surrounded and 
involved among the struggling figures that he 
failed to shoot for obvious reasons, and after a 
moment’s reflection he concluded that it would 
be better not to show himself at present. 

It was just before Dan was dragged to the 
earth, that glancing aside, Julian saw Maggie 
running among the trees, pursued by two 
Indians. Descending the slope, she ran out 
on the point of land, not observing in her 
fright and haste that she had gone into a trap. 
But her pursuers were quick to take note of 



THE INDIANS STOOD AROUND HIM EXULTANTLY 



In the Camp of the Creeks 91 


this fact^ and slackened their speed. They 
knew that she could escape from her present 
position only by retracing her steps and pass- 
ing within a few feet of where they stood. So 
sure were they of their game, in fact, that 
their attention returned to the struggle going 
on in the open and they made bold to move 
backward a few steps in order to witness the 
issue. 

Having secured their gigantic prize to the 
satisfaction of even the most cautious, tying 
his arms behind him with stout cords of 
twisted deer hide, all the Indians except the 
one who was shot and the two who were dis- 
abled, stood round him in a circle, exulting 
over him and reviling him. Indeed several 
of them were not content without beating him 
over the head with their ramrods. Most of 
them knew a little English, and many taunt- 
ing remarks that the prisoner could under- 
stand, and to which he did not reply, were 
made, such as : 

Big white snake crawl in camp while 


92 In the Camp of the Creeks 

Indian sleep, eh? Steal little white fawn, 
eh ? White snake thnk he wise, thnk Indian 
fool, wait till Indian put him in fire — see 
if white snake know to crawl out fire, 
too.’^ 

It was while all this was going on that 
Julian resolved upon a bold action. The spot 
where Maggie had crouched down on the 
point of land was not fifty yards from the 
canoe and, after working his way out of the 
reeds, Julian saw that he needed to paddle 
across only a few feet of open water in order 
to double the point and pass out of the line 
of the Indians’ vision. Upon trial he found 
that the sedge offered less resistance than he 
had expected, but he foresaw that the waving 
motion imparted to it might attract attention 
even if no noise should be made. However, 
he did not hesitate. Working the canoe out 
of the flags, he dipped his paddle deftly, shoot- 
ing across the open water and doubling the 
point apparently without being observed, for 
no cry of alarm was raised. 


In the Camp of the Creeks 93 

Had not the attention of the Indians been 
so entirely taken up with their prisoner, the 
boy’s attempt would have failed. Even as it 
was, one of the Creek warriors who divided 
his attention between the group in the open 
and the outlet from the point of land, caught 
the faint sound of an incautious dip of the 
paddle and glanced searchingly and sus- 
piciously out over the swamp an instant after 
the canoe passed round the point. 

Julian was not obliged to land. He had 
no sooner doubled the point than he saw 
Maggie crouching among the bushes only a 
few feet from the water’s edge, and, what was 
equally fortunate, she saw him at once. Beck- 
oning to her and indicating by appropriate 
motions that she should not speak, the boy 
ran the canoe up to a fallen tree that projected 
a few feet from the shore. Comprehending 
that he wished to leave no trace of either the 
canoe or her footprints in the bare yielding 
earth at the water’s edge, Maggie stepped on 
the log where it issued from the undergrowth 


94 In the Camp of the Creeks 

and walked forward with cautiously bent 
body until she was enabled to drop gently 
into the canoe. 

Having witnessed the triumphant issue of 
the struggle in the open, Maggie's two pur- 
suers appeared to conclude that it was time to 
secure captive number two, for they began to 
advance out on the point of land. Two min- 
utes later they appeared at the log where the 
girl had embarked, a disappointed, puzzled 
look on their faces. After beating the bush 
all over the point, they arrived at its terminus 
only to find that, after all, the game was not 
run to earth, little dreaming that a few sec- 
onds before a canoe had disappeared behind a 
low tussock perhaps a hundred yards out in 
the fiooded swamp. 

Had the fugitive drowned herself or at- 
tempted the dangerous and all but impossible 
feat of swimming out through the submerged 
forest, crowded as it was with every conceiv- 
able obstruction ? Neither conjecture brought 
satisfaction. The two bewildered warriors 


In the Camp of the Creeks 95 

were shortly joined by three others and a con- 
sultation was held. 

Meanwhile Maggie lay panting in the 
bottom of the canoe on the Indian 
blanket and Julian, resting on his knees, 
peeped guardedly through the bushes and 
swamp-grasses growing on the tussock, 
and kept a watch on the Indians in 
council. 

“ They Ve going away,’^ the boy whispered 
presently. The two that followed you look 
sheepish and the others look mad. I reckon 
they've decided that while they watched the 
fight, you slipped by 'em and ran on through 
the woods." 

And what about Dan ? " asked Maggie in 
a low voice. 

“ I can't see the place from here. I reckon 
they must be carry in' him to the camp by this 
time." 

Here Maggie broke down and for some time 
struggled vainly with her tears. Just to 
think," she moaned, “ that after what he did 


96 In the Camp of the Creeks 

for me all by his lone self, here they’ve gone 
and caught him ! ” 

It’s better for Dan to be the prisoner than 
you, because you’re a woman,” said Julian. 

'' It is not,” protested Maggie. They 
wouldn’t ’a’ killed me, but they’ll kill him 
right straight.” 

But one of the young chiefs would have 
married you. Dan said so.” 

No, he wouldn’t ! ” cried Maggie, angrily, 

I’d like to see the nasty, good-for-nothin’ 
thing try it. I’d scratch his eyes out.” 

“ Hush ! ” warned Julian, anxiously, 
though half inclined to smile ; for as the dis- 
gusted girl sat up in the canoe and glared 
about her, she looked quite capable of carry- 
ing out her threat. 

Her wide straw hat had fallen off and her 
dark red, curling hair hung loosely about her 
shoulders. Her figured calico dress was 
splashed with mud and her keen gray eyes 
were dimmed with tears. Nevertheless it was 
to be seen at a glance that she had a pretty. 


In the Camp of the Creeks 97 

winning face. Training and more refined 
surroundings might have done much for Mag- 
gie Keswick. Though sixteen years old, she 
had had little or no education. More or less 
roughly brought up on a Southern frontier 
farm, she was a wild, self-willed, but attractive 
child of nature. 

It makes me feel so mean to think that 
Dan got caught and I got off safe,’’ continued 
Maggie, with more angry tears. 

If you feel mean, how do you reckon I 
feel?” 

“ Oh, that puts me in mind. Why weren’t 
you there with the canoe when Dan whis- 
tled?” 

** I went to sleep and drifted down the 
creek.” 

Well, Julian Curtis, if that doesn’t beat all ! 
You ought to be thrashed.” 

Julian wanted to say, “ I couldn’t help it,” 
but resisted the impulse as weak and un- 
worthy, and endured the girl’s wrathful and 
accusing glances in silence. 


98 In the Camp of the Creeks 

Well, I reckon you were tired out and 
couldn’t help it, po’ child,” said Maggie pres- 
ently, softening. 

I deserve to be called a ^ child,’ ” an- 
swered the boy, profoundly dejected, but I 
hope I won’t act like one again.” 

“ Well, what are you goin’ to do now ? ” 

“ Get away from here as fast as I can.” 

For fifteen minutes now, though constantly 
on the lookout, he had seen no signs of the 
Indians. It was likely that they were hur- 
rying through the woods along the main 
shore, believing themselves in chase of Mag- 
gie ; but it was also likely that, unable to 
find her trail, some of them would return to 
the point in the course of an hour and make 
further investigations. Now was the time to 
escape. On leaving the shelter of the tus- 
sock, the canoe would be in view from the 
shore, but only while crossing a few yards of 
comparatively open water. After that it 
would be lost among the crowding trees 
and black reaches of stagnant water. Prog- 


In the Camp of the Creeks 99 

ress would be slow, but a circuit could grad- 
ually be made and they could finally reenter 
the open creek above the island. 

Lie down again, urged Julian, as he 
lifted the paddle and began to push the 
canoe out into open water. If there are 
any Indians on the Avatch, they needn’t see 
you even if they do see me.” 


CHAPTER VIII 


AN UNSATISFACTOKY VOYAGE 

Maggie promptly obeyed, but as soon as 
she knew they were screened from view she 
again sat up in the canoe and bade the boy 
halt until she had decided what she ought to 
do. She declared that it was a “ perfect 
shame ” for them to “ sneak away like two 
cowards ’’ and leave brave Dan to his fate. 
She seemed to forget that it had been her 
habit to speak of him lightly as the scary 
trapper.” She ventured the suggestion that 
they ought to wait and watch in the neigh- 
borhood until there was a chance to aid his 
escape. 

I’ve a great mind to go ashore and walk 
into that camp and tell ’em if they harm a 
hair of his head, all the soldiers in Georgia’ll 
march in here and wipe the last one of ’em 
off the face of the earth,” she declared. 

100 


101 


In the Camp of the Creeks 

Julian thought this would do no good, and 
would only result in two captives instead of 
one. “ We can’t do anything,” he added. 

“ You’re only a girl and ” 

“ And you’re only a child.” 

“ Child or not,” he answered hotly, “ you’ll 
see that after I’ve taken you home to Uncle 
Cyrus, I’ll come back in here with the men. 
If I were alone, I’d try to help Dan, but I 
know Uncle Cyrus would say I ought to get 
you out of this scrape first, and that’s what 
I’m going to do, too. I wouldn’t put you on 
shore if you told me to, so that settles it ! ” 
Maggie was forced to acknowledge that this 
‘‘ child ” was not without spirit, and it might 
be she would have to yield to his dictation 
whether she wished to or not. It was well 
perhaps that the discussion went no further. 
At this juncture a suggestive sound, like the 
plunging of a heavy body into the water, 
came to them from the direction of the point 
of land, and all other considerations were lost 
sight of in the excitement of the moment 


102 


In the Camp of the Creeks 

and a quickened desire to make good their 
retreat. What the sound meant they could 
only conjecture, but there seemed little doubt 
that the Indians suspected how they had 
been outwitted and were determined to in- 
vestigate. They had no canoe, but doubtless 
some of the hardy Creek warriors would be 
willing to swim out into the submerged 
swamp, regardless of moccasins, alligators, 
and the danger of becoming entangled in the 
water plants and mosses, in order to follow 
and recapture the daring fugitive. 

“ WeVe got the start and they can’t catch 
up with us, I think, unless we get stuck,” 
said Julian in a low voice, as they listened 
for further sounds. But it won’t do to stay 
around here any longer.” 

Thereupon he strained hard in order to 
force the canoe more rapidly forward, while 
Maggie who sat facing him, scanned the open 
swamp vistas behind them, dreading every 
moment lest she should see the head of a 
swimming Indian. But in choosing the best 


In the Camp of the Creeks 103 

route the canoe was turned rapidly from right 
to left, the backward view being thus 
frequently cut off, and if there were any 
pursuers on their track they were not seen, 
nor were any further sounds heard. In the 
course of the extended circuit which finally 
brought them into the open creek above the 
southeastern extremity of the island, where 
observation from the shore was no longer 
feared, Maggie gave the questioning boy the 
details of her capture. 

The Indians had done her no violence, 
merely surrounding her, seizing her bridle 
and leading her rapidly away from the road 
into a dense swampy hammock, where she 
soon realized that her screams were a useless 
waste of energy. So far as she could tell, she 
had ridden about eight miles in their com- 
pany before the island was reached the same 
night. During the first half of the journey 
they seemed to be skirting the Chickasawhat- 
chee, after which they boldly entered it by 
torchlight and traveled several miles through 


104 the Camp of the Creeks 

mud, water and jungle, the horses sometimes 
sinking to their saddle girths in the slime, 
necessitating the lifting of Maggie’s foot from 
the stirrup and the catching up of her skirts. 
Before and after arriving at the camp the 
Creek warriors treated her with respect and 
consideration, only the squaws seeming dis- 
posed to address her in harsh language. 
Some of the latter looked as if they would 
like to claw her with their long nails, she 
said. 

I reckon that means there was a young 
chief in the party that caught you who wants 
to marry you,” said Julian. Don’t you 
know he’d like to skin me alive ! ” 

“ Skin him alive ! ” cried Maggie furiously. 
“ Maybe they killed Mrs. Todd because she 
was too old and her little girls because they 
were too young,” speculated the boy. Yes, 
they must have wanted you for a squaw. 
Dan said there didn’t seem to be as many 
women in the camp as men.” 

They had now entered the open creek, the 


In the Camp of the Creeks 105 

island being no longer in view, and Julian 
paddled the canoe steadily upward against 
the sluggish current. It was not long before 
they reached the point where the boy be- 
lieved Dan had turned off to the right, and 
they were presently making their way slowly 
through the flooded swamp toward the 
smaller island. It may have been an hour 
later when the toiling boy stopped paddling 
and gazed about him in great perplexity. 
Confused by the many openings among the 
trees ahead, more than once he had not been 
sure that he chose the right one ; now he 
knew beyond question that he had gone 
astray, for Little Island should have been 
reached long since and there was still noth- 
ing in view but the apparently interminable 
swamp. 

Without a word to alarm his unsuspecting 
companion, Julian brought the canoe around 
and attempted to retrace his course back to 
the creek, trusting that, once there, he would 
soon regain his bearings. But at the expira- 


io6 In the Camp of the Creeks 

tion of another hour and after much hard 
work, the creek had not as yet been dis- 
covered and was apparently no nearer than 
when he turned to go back. It was now past 
ten o’clock in the mornitig and poor Julian 
was not only weary of his labors but pain- 
fully hungry. As the canoe entered a small 
open expanse of water, fringed by almost im- 
penetrable vegetation, he again lifted the 
paddle from the water and stared about him 
helplessly. The water of the little swamp 
lake appeared to be quite deep and was well 
stocked with fish of various kinds, to judge 
from the way they were striking.” It oc- 
curred to Julian that, though their escape 
from the swamp seemed doubtful, the way to 
a breakfast was not difficult. Reluctantly he 
now confessed that he was lost. 

I might ’a’ told you so,” snapped Maggie. 
“ You wouldn’t listen to me when I wanted 
to stay close to the island and try to help 
Dan. Such a big man as you had to have 
your own way and now this is what you’ve 


In the Camp of the Creeks 107 

got. We’ll both starve, I reckon, and what’s 
worse, if Dan gets loose the canoe won’t be 
where he can get it.” 

Julian made no reply. He looked pro- 
foundly dejected as he unwound a fishing line 
and selected a large eel-worm from a supply 
that had been secured before entering the 
swamp on the previous day, — so dejected, in- 
deed, that Maggie was prompt to repent of 
and make amends for her sharp speech. 

‘‘ Never mind, boy, you’ve done your 
best,” she said gently. “ Maybe you’ll find 
the way by and by.” 

“ We’ve got to have something to eat before 
I try it again,” said Julian, and applied him- 
self to fishing with energy. ‘‘ I wish we had 
one of those live turkeys,” he added. When 
we find the little island we must put them in 
the canoe. We can’t tote ’em to Newton, but 
we can leave them in the edge of the swamp 
and stop to tell the negroes where to find 
them.” 

The patience of an Izaak Walton was not 


io8 In the Camp of the Creeks 

needed on this occasion. The little lake in 
the interior of the great swamp had rarely if 
ever been fished, and its inexperienced inhab- 
itants did not know the difference between a 
worm impaled on a treacherous hook and 
another more innocent. The boy soon had 
two fine black bass, each weighing at least two 
pounds, flapping about in the bottom of the 
boat. While Maggie was scaling them, he 
paddled over to a tussock at the farther side 
of the open water, collected some bits of dry 
wood and built a fire. The bass were then 
split in two and fairly well broiled on the 
coals. The lack of salt was a serious drawback 
to the flavor, but both Maggie and Julian ate 
heartily and afterward felt much better. 
They had stepped out on the tussock, a bush- 
grown circular mound some ten feet in diam- 
eter, in order to stretch their limbs as well as 
to cook and eat their breakfast, and at their 
approach, a moccasin snake that had been 
sunning itself there beat a hasty retreat down 
the opposite side and disappeared among 


In the Camp of the Creeks 109 

some dead branches lying along the dark 
water. 

When the meal was finished, Julian tore 
down a great quantity of gray moss from the 
overhanging branches of a tree, arranged it in 
the bottom of the canoe and spread the Indian 
blanket over it. 

Now,’^ he said to the young girl who 
looked on curiously, I want you to lie down 
and rest yourself while I paddle around and 
see if I can’t find the way out of this place.” 

“ Julian, boy,” said Maggie, touched by 
this attention, the girl you marry when you 
grow up will be lucky, — you’re so good and 
thoughtful.” 

Julian was not displeased at so pretty a 
compliment, but his responsibilities were just 
now too heavy to permit of his being puffed 
up. He had no sooner dipped the paddle and 
chosen his course than it passed from his 
anxious mind. Maggie did not at first accept 
his suggestion, but sat up and not only tried 
to assist him by her advice but laid hold of 


1 lO 


In the Camp of the Creeks 

passing trees or bushes whenever it was found 
difficult to urge the canoe forward. As the 
day advanced it grew warm, mosquitoes be- 
came troublesome and the boy found his labors 
more and more trying. Nevertheless he 
struggled bravely on, sometimes painfully 
despondent but never entirely without hope 
of at least finding his way to the outer world. 
He reflected that the swamp, though vast, was 
not endless. He did not know that, in the 
confusion of the winding passages ever leading 
forward before him, his sense of direction was 
no longer reliable and that for the most part 
he traveled in a circle, not recognizing old 
landmarks as he occasionally returned to them 
on account of the sameness of the swamp land- 
scape. 

Maggie several times proposed to change 
places with him and take her turn at the pad- 
dling, but Julian would not suffer it, and she 
finally succumbed to the effect of fatigue and 
the heat. Reclining on the comfortable couch 
prepared for her, she covered her face from 


Ill 


In the Camp of the Creeks 

the light and soon fell asleep. The boy 
heartily wished that they were at home where 
he, too, might feel at liberty to lie down ; but 
the sight of his cousin asleep and defenseless, 
added to his sense of responsibility, and he 
struggled on, with all the energy of the dawn- 
ing manhood in him, through the silent wind- 
ing reaches of the great Chickasawhatchee. 

It was about three o’clock in the afternoon 
when he saw light breaking through the trees 
ahead, and pressing forward, soon reached a 
comparatively open place whence he could 
see the high and dry land of a rolling pine 
ridge. He thought at first that he had 
arrived at the limits of the swamp ; then it 
struck him that the high land was out of 
character, for, so far as his experience went, 
the woods bordering on the Chickasawhat- 
chee, were always flat and swampy. Besides^ 
he recollected to have heard Dan say that a 
part of Big Island was comparatively hilly. 
Though doubtful what he ought to do, he 
continued to send the canoe slowly forward, 


112 In the Camp of the Creeks 

and presently the sound of an axe fell upon 
his ear. 

Gliding forward more cautiously then, 
from the screen of one clump of swamp 
brush to that of another, the canoe was 
shortly in a position from which Julian 
could see whence the sound came. About 
three hundred yards up the slope from the 
water’s edge two negroes were engaged in 
cutting a large pine tree. No sight could 
have been more welcome, for the boy at once 
leaped to the conclusion that the limits of the 
swamp had now at last been reached. The 
two black men must of course belong to some 
neighboring farm and had come down to the 
borders of the Chickasawhatchee in order to 
cut what was probably a bee tree. Paddling 
boldly forward, Julian beached the canoe 
sidewise and stepped ashore. 

Then it suddenly occurred to him that Dan 
had seen run-away negroes in the Indian 
camp, and he ducked down behind a clump of 
bushes and peered anxiously forth, Evi- 


In the Camp of the Creeks 113 

dently he had not been seen, for the two 
negroes did not halt in their work. So far, 
then, all was well, and there was nothing to 
prevent his creeping forward for some dis- 
tance, leaving the canoe where it was. Mag- 
gie still slept, and the boy now erred on the 
side of tenderness. He thought it a pity to 
rouse her and he took the risk of leaving her 
uninformed of his intentions, confidently ex- 
pecting to find her still asleep when he re- 
turned a few minutes later. 

But hardly had Julian disappeared in the 
bushes when Maggie opened her eyes with a 
start and stared at the open sky above her. 
Wondering that she no longer heard the dip 
of the paddle, she called the boy’s name. 
Receiving no answer, she sat up and looked 
around her in alarm. Then it was that the 
stroke of the axes attracted her attention. 
Standing up in the canoe, she promptly 
located the two negroes and arrived at the 
same conclusion first reached by Julian. 

Unluckily she did not know of the pres- 


114 the Camp of the Creeks 

ence of runaway negroes in the Indian camp, 
nor did the high ground awaken any 
suspicion that this might not after all be the 
outer limit of the Chickasawhatchee. She 
was convinced that their swamp-wanderings 
were now over, and that the delighted boy, 
though not now in view, had rushed forward 
to question the tree-cutters. With exultant 
feelings of relief and with perfect confidence, 
therefore, she stepped ashore and walked 
boldly up the slope. 


CHAPTER IX 


THE “ WATER LILY ” AND THE BEE TREE 

The two negro men were dressed in well 
worn homespun shirts and tattered trousers, 
and stood on either side of the pine in- 
dustriously wielding their axes, each stroke 
being accompanied by a loud grunt which 
apparently did duty as a safety-valve for a 
surplus of energy. They were so absorbed 
in their labors that they remained ignorant 
of Maggie’s approach until she was within a 
few feet of them. Then they lowered their 
axes and stared at her in open-mouthed 
astonishment. 

Why, if it ain’t Mr. Hightower’s Joe ! ” 
exclaimed Maggie, her eyes fastened on the 
younger of the two men. “ Why, Joe, I 
thought you’d done run away too long to 
talk about.” 

'' Yes’m, Miss Maggie, I did sort o’ run 

115 


n6 In the Camp of the Creeks 

away/’ stammered the young negro who was 
known in the vicinity of the Chickasawhat- 
chee as “ Hightower’s Joe.” 

‘‘ What’d you do it for ? Did they thrash 
you?” 

“ No’m, it wan’t dat. I jes’ got tired o’ so 
much ploughin’ and hoein’ and put in to do 
a little huntin’ and fishin’,” was answered, 
with a grin. 

“ And then you got tired of that and went 
home and let ’em put you to work again, 
eh?” 

“Who, me?” ejaculated the negro, aston- 
ished. 

“How far is it to Mr. Hightower’s?” con- 
tinued Maggie. 

“ A fur ways.” 

“ What are you doin’ here, then ? ” 

“ Cuttin’ dis bee tree.” 

“Ain’t this Mr. Hightower’s land?” 

“ Shew ! ” ejaculated the other negro, “ dis 
is ’way in de swamp. How come you in yuh 
and don’ know you in yuh? Dis de big 


In the Camp of the Creeks 117 

islant, where de Injuns is,” said Hightower's 
Joe. 

Maggie comprehended her unfortunate sit- 
uation at once, and even in the first moments 
of terror, found the calmness to be glad that 
she had not begun by inquiring for Julian. 
Thus the boy's presence had not been be- 
trayed and he might escape even though she 
were again taken prisoner. She understood 
now that Julian had left her only for a 
few minutes and had wisely taken advantage 
of the palmetto and gallberry brush in order 
to make his observations unseen, while she 
had foolishly walked openly into the enemy's 
camp. The camp itself was not in view, — as 
far as the eye could reach, nothing met her 
gaze but the rolling pine ridge ; nevertheless 
she was in the power of these two black con- 
federates of the red men. Pier first impulse 
was to cut and run for the canoe, but she re- 
jected it as unwise, conscious that it would be 
easy for the negroes to intercept her flight if 
they chose, and thinking they would most 


n8 In the Camp of the Creeks 


likely do so in order to gain favor with their 
allies. 

The frightened girl turned pale, drew in 
her breath with a gasp, and after a moment’s 
trembling and hesitation, struggled to com- 
pose herself “ Do you know the way out of 
the swamp, Joe ? ” she asked, in an unsteady 
voice. 

“ You mighty right I do.” 

Maggie then eagerly made a proposition to 
the two negroes, wisely deciding to withhold 
all mention of Julian or the canoe until con- 
vinced of their willingness to do as she 
wished. She told them if they would lead 
her out of the swamp and put her on the 
road to her uncle’s place, she would give 
them her gold earrings and breastpin and at 
some later day send them five dollars each in 
money. The two men opened their e^^es 
wide, evidently attracted by the offer, but the 
elder promptly shook his head. 

“ Injuns kill us,” he said. “ Injuns watchin’ 
us over yawnder.” 


In the Camp of the Creeks 119 

Dem Injun don’t like work, you see ’em 
■so,” supplemented Hightower’s Joe, grinning. 

A whole passel o’ ’em lazin’ roun’ on de 
grass smokin’ dey pipe in de shade t’other 
side dat clump o’ permeters over yawnder, and 
soon’s we git de bee tree cut, dey’ll up and 
come eat de honey.” 

Maggie was wondering what these runa- 
ways gained by exchanging one form of slav- 
ery for another when suddenly she beheld 
three Indians carrying rifles emerge from the 
screen of a large clump of palmettoes some 
two hundred yards up the slope. Except for 
a feathery headdress, they were naked to the 
waist and their red-brown bodies glistened in 
the sun. Brown deerskin trousers covered 
their nether limbs. They walked leisurely 
forward, probably intending to And out why 
the axes had ceased to ring. In the terror 
that now overtook her, Maggie’s every feeling 
was merged into the one absorbing instinct 
that prompted flight. 

As she turned round and darted down the 


120 


In the Camp of the Creeks 

slope like a startled hare, the negroes shouted 
to her that it was useless to run. But run 
she did, straining every nerve to increase her 
speed. The three Indians were quick to see 
her and set out in hot pursuit. She had a 
good start, was fleet of foot, and, provided 
she did not trip and fall, the chances were 
that she would reach the canoe and embark 
before she could be overtaken. She did, in 
fact, arrive a hundred yards in advance of 
her pursuers, and paused an instant to look 
around for Julian who was nowhere to be 
seen. 

Pained and bewildered at this, but confid- 
ing in the hope that the boy was hidden from 
view and would not be taken, Maggie stepped 
into the canoe, dropped on her knees, seized 
the paddle and pushed off from the land. 
Luckily she had had some little experience in 
the management of the canoe. Fortune also 
favored her in that the swamp water at this 
point, was comparatively open and free of 
impediments for some little distance from 


121 


In the Camp of the Creeks 

shore. The canoe was fully fifty yards away 
when the foremost of the pursuers reached 
the water’s edge and called out to the fugitive 
to stop. Glancing over her shoulder, Maggie 
saw three Creek warriors standing on the 
shore, several others running down the slope 
and the two negroes still leaning on their 
axes at the bee tree. 

White girl, come back — Indian shoot,” 
called out one of the warriors from the 
water’s edge. 

Far from obeying, Maggie strained every 
nerve to send the canoe on, hoping to run in 
behind a screen of swamp bushes before the 
threat was made good. A moment later all 
her pulses leaped at the crack of a rifle and 
she noted in great fear that the bullet had 
buried itself in the thwart of the canoe two 
feet in front of her. She did not dream that 
the Indian had missed his mark purposely, 
intending only to frighten her into sur- 
render ; and she gave herself up for lost. 
Nevertheless she continued to paddle des- 


122 


In the Camp of the Creeks 

perately, and the canoe shot behind cover 
just as another bullet whistled over her head. 
A moment later she heard the splash of two 
separate bodies as they came in contact with 
the water and knew that her pursuers were 
about to swim into the swamp after her. 
Pausing for one anxious look about her, she 
chose the apparently most promising opening 
among the trees ahead and paddled frantically 
toward it. 

Maggie’s pluck had compelled the In- 
dians to resort to a disagreeable expedient. 
They saw that they must either shoot her, 
allow her to escape, or swim into the swamp 
and overtake her. The first was against ex- 
press orders, the second was not to be suf- 
fered, and the third was therefore necessary. 
Armed only with their knives, two young 
warriors leaped into the stagnant water, and 
by wading, swimming and avoiding as far as 
possible submerged obstructions such as fallen 
trees, they made good headway in the wake 
of the fugitive. 


In the Camp of the Creeks 123 

With a clear field poor Maggie might now 
have really escaped. As it was, the difficul- 
ties were too great. As the canoe shot 
through the opening ahead, and with a deft 
sweep of the paddle was turned into a wind- 
ing avenue to the right, the bow ran upon a 
submerged cypress knee ’’ and hung fast. 
With uncommon quickness of resource, the 
girl stood up, squatted half down and stood 
erect again several times, imparting a motion 
to the canoe that under ordinary circum- 
stances would have loosened it from the un- 
seen snag, but in the present case failed to do 
so. Maggie then resumed her seat, dipped 
the paddle again, and was attempting to get 
off by backing water, when she saw the head 
of an Indian appear around the bend, fol- 
lowed almost at once by another. 

She now saw that further efibrt was useless, 
for her enemies were within thirty feet and 
the canoe still fast. She lifted the paddle out 
of the water and sat still, watching the swim- 
mers, the threatening look of a hunted animal 


124 III the Camp of the Creeks 

at bay, in her eyes. As the foremost Indian 
drew near, she recognized his face as that of 
the young chief whose raiding party had cap- 
tured her on the previous afternoon. This 
added fuel to the fire of her rage, and as he 
put out his hand to grasp the gunwale, she 
lifted the paddle as if to strike and cried out 
fiercely, as though addressing some persistent 
dog come barking at her heels : 

“ Go Vay ! 

Her sudden threatening attitude caused the 
young chief to shy off for the moment, and he 
involuntarily threw his right hand out on a 
small bush-grown tussock to the right of him. 
An instant later he withdrew it with a start 
and a pained contraction of the muscles of his 
face, and hearing a rustling, Maggie looked 
where his hand had been in time to see a 
moccasin gliding out of sight behind the tus- 
sock. Though it was her enemy who had 
been bitten, the girl shrank from the spectacle 
and was moved by involuntary pity. In fact, 
so occupied was she with the horror of it that 


In the Camp of the Creeks 125 

the movements of the other Indian passed un- 
noticed until she felt the canoe sway violently 
and looked round to see him climbing aboard. 

Now that her case was hopeless, the girl’s 
unusual strength and courage forsook her. 
Even her anger and pride could not prevent 
great hot tears from starting in her eyes and 
trickling down her cheeks. The Indian who 
had climbed into the canoe, looked at her ad- 
miringly and muttered something to the effect 
that the white maiden showed a brave spirit, 
but she was not touched by the compliment 
and turned her face scornfully away. 

The canoe was promptly dislodged from the 
knee,” by the aid of the young chief who 
was still in the water, and was soon gliding 
rapidly back to shore. Maggie noted that 
the latter, though bitten by a moccasin, made 
no complaint ; as soon as he was seated in the 
canoe, he merely proceeded to enlarge the 
wound with his knife and squeeze out the 
blood. As they passed a miry tussock, he 
caught up a handful of mud and applied it to 


126 In the Camp of the Creeks 

the wound, and later he pulled up a pond-lily 
bush, bruised the root with the handle of his 
knife and applied this likewise, the mud 
being first washed away. And after all this 
he appeared to dismiss further anxiety from 
his mind. 

The three passengers in the canoe were re- 
ceived with admiring glances and words of 
applause by the five Indians awaiting them 
on shore. The very mud and green slime ad- 
hering to the buckskin trousers of the two 
prompt and devoted young Creeks were 
looked upon with env}^, and it was plain 
enough to Maggie that she was regarded as an 
extraordinary young girl. The mystery of 
her disappearance from the point of land that 
morning seemed now cleared up, much to the 
satisfaction of all. It was supposed that Dan, 
on landing in the night, had left his canoe at 
the point of the little peninsula, and while 
he was engaged in the fight, the girl had 
eluded her pursuers by possessing herself of 
it and paddling away. Evidently she had 


In the Camp of the Creeks 127 

lost her way in the swamp and wandered 
about all day, finally, in ignorance of her 
whereabouts, landing on the north shore of 
the island. 

The captive was now led up the slope to the 
vicinity of the bee tree, which fell with a 
crash just after they arrived. The two ne- 
groes immediately located the hollow, cut 
into it, and after scattering the angry bees by 
means of the thick smoke from bits of burn- 
ing cotton cloth, proceeded to fill several 
buckets with the dark layers of wild honey- 
comb. The indolent Creek warriors mean- 
while stood well out of range, never once 
offering to lend a hand. However, each of 
them condescended to exert himself to the 
extent of selecting a large piece of the honey- 
comb which was eaten with grunts of satisfac- 
tion and brief exclamations of approval. A 
tempting piece was also offered Maggie by the 
young chief who had twice been responsible 
for her capture, but although painfully hun- 
gry, she rejected it in proud disdain. An- 


128 In the Camp of the Creeks 

other Indian of more advanced age likewise 
invited her to eat. 

Chum-pee good, much good,” he said, 
and then added in his broken English that 
Shil-o-fo-haw, the Water Lily, was unwise to 
refuse so good a gift as this luscious wild 
honey. By unanimous consent the girl had 
been promptly named the “ Water Lily,” 
probably both on account of her fair face, 
and because pond-lilies grew in all the open 
spaces of the swamp where she was captured. 

The operation of robbing the wild bee-hive 
being completed, the Indians set forward 
across the backbone of the island, with Mag- 
gie walking in their midst and followed by 
the negroes loaded with the buckets of honey. 
But before they had marched half a mile 
they suddenly came to a halt, and a consulta- 
tion was held in the Creek tongue. Their 
speeches were wholly unintelligible to Maggie, 
but Hightower’s Joe who wished to learn the 
language listened intently, catching a familiar 
word here and there. He marked the fre- 


In the Camp of the Creeks jig 

quent repetition of the word bith-low and 
soon understood their purpose of sending 
back for the canoe in order to transport it to 
camp and launch it in the neighboring creek, 
such transportation being thought easier than 
a toilsome voyage around through the 
swamp. 

Three young braves were accordingly ap- 
pointed for this task, who, being of nearly 
equal height, could readily carry the canoe 
on their shoulders. The selection was no 
sooner made than the two parties separated, 
the larger going forward and the smaller 
leisurely retracing their steps. Both parties 
walked boldly across the open spaces with 
little of that wariness of manner character- 
istic of the Indian when in an enemy^s 
country, and this was of course because of 
their confidence in the security of their 
position, confidence that had been in nowise 
weakened by Dan Dennard’s daring and 
single handed attempt to rescue Maggie. 

But after the three young warriors had 


130 In the Camp of the Creeks 

walked leisurely past the fallen bee tree and 
reached the water’s edge, suddenly as by a 
common impulse, they darted into the cover 
of the nearest bushes. No enemy appeared 
in view or fired on them from ambush, but 
they simultaneously made a bewildering dis- 
covery. The canoe had dissappeared. 


CHAPTER X 


A TRYING NIGHT 

Julian had stepped boldly and confidently 
ashore, as has been told, but, on recollect- 
ing what Dan had said about the presence 
of runaway negroes in the Indian camp, he 
made haste to conceal himself. As he ap- 
proached the vicinity of the bee tree, every 
few moments he raised his head above the 
bushes and looked about him warily. The 
lay of the land and the necessity of keeping 
a screen of brush between himself and those 
he wished to spy upon, caused the boy to ap- 
proach by a roundabout way, and he had not 
gone more than half the distance when Mag- 
gie began to walk boldly up the slope. 

Some three minutes later, when the boy 
stole round a clump of palmettoes within 
fifty feet of the bee tree and peeped over the 
tops of some gallberry bushes, he was amazed 

131 


132 In the Camp of the Creeks 

to see Maggie in conversation with the two 
negroes who were now leaning on their axes. 
A word or two reached him now and then, 
but he lost the sense of what passed between 
them. Maggie seemed to show no fear, how- 
ever, and Julian had about concluded to 
walk boldly forward when, for some in- 
explicable reason, the girl turned round and 
ran down the slope. The pursuing Indians 
were not in the line of his vision, a tall 
clump of palmettoes intervening, and when 
the negroes called out to Maggie that it was 
useless to run, Julian at first thought she 
had taken fright without cause, and stood in 
his tracks irresolute. 

And then, as he heard the sound of rapid 
footsteps, he began to realize the situation. 
A moment later the three foremost Indians 
were seen dashing past the bee tree. Had the 
boy understood sooner, he would have joined 
Maggie in her flight and the two might have 
gotten off together, the former, however, run- 
ning the risk of being shot before the cover 


In the Camp of the Creeks 133 

of the swamp was reached. But now the 
enemy was between them and the opportu- 
nity gone. He would have run bravely to 
her assistance as it was, had he expected 
bodily injury to be done her, but the history 
of her first captivity was reassuring, and he 
decided to remain where he was, trusting to 
some future opportunity of effecting her res- 
cue. 

But when he witnessed Maggie^s plucky 
behavior in the canoe and saw the Indian 
cover her with his rifle Julian aimed his own 
weapon at the supposed bloodthirsty warrior, 
heedless of what might be the result in his 
own case. Had he been a little quicker to 
act, his hiding-place would have been re- 
vealed ; but just before he pulled the trigger, 
the Indian fired and the boy was quick to 
understand that the only object in view was 
to frighten Maggie and bring her to surren- 
der. So he stayed his hand, ducked into the 
bushes again and kept quiet while the girl 
was chased into the swamp and brought back. 


134 In the Camp of the Creeks 

and while the honey was being taken from 
the bee tree. 

As he squatted panting in the brush within 
fifty feet of the returning party of red men, 
fearing to move yet dreading to remain, two 
anxieties presented themselves. If the In- 
dians had a dog with them, he would soon be 
scented out ; and if the tree should fall in his 
direction, he might have to break from cover 
in order to escape a horrible death. His fate in 
the latter case was promptly decided. Hearing 
that unmistakable cracking, tearing sound 
indicating that the great tree was tottering on 
its base, the boy leaped to his feet in terror, 
and not until he saw clearly that it was fall- 
ing in the opposite direction did he drop into 
cover again. His sudden movement caused a 
rustling of the gallberry bushes, and for quite 
ten seconds his head and shoulders were visi- 
ble above them, but no one saw or heard him, 
all eyes being fixed upon the tree as it tot- 
tered, swayed forward slowly, then flew to 
meet the earth with a thundering roar. 


In the Camp of the Creeks 135 

It was a trying half hour that followed 
while the honey was taken from the hollow 
of the tree. The boy was sometimes afraid 
that his enemies would hear the very beating 
of his heart, and he often imagined that he 
heard a dog snuffing the grass only a few feet 
away. But as a matter of fact, no dog accom- 
panied the party. 

At length the Indians walked leisurely 
away from the neighborhood, and, raising his 
head above the bushes, the boy watched them 
until even the negroes, bringing up the rear, 
could no longer be seen. Then he started on 
a run for the canoe, but stopped suddenly, 
and, returning to the bee tree, gleaned a good 
handful of honeycomb before he was chased 
away by the bees. Two minutes later he was 
in the canoe, and had passed from view in 
the swamp sometime before the three young 
Indians sent back on a bootless errand ap- 
peared at the top of the ridge. 

After paddling three or four hundred yards 
to a point where he was well screened from 


136 In the Camp of the Creeks 


view, Julian stopped to consider. It was 
now growing late in the afternoon, and there 
was not time to leave the swamp before night, 
even had he known the way out. The situa- 
tion was now worse than it had been at any 
time since the kidnapping of Maggie on the 
previous afternoon, and poor Julian confessed 
that his carelessness and blundering were 
largely responsible. Both Dan and Maggie 
were now captives in the Indian camp, and 
the only person in a position at the present 
time to render them aid was a prisoner in the 
swamp. 

What was to be done ? Dreams of return- 
ing to shore at dark, of crossing the island 
guided by the light of the camp-fires, of watch- 
ing and waiting until the still hours before 
dawn, and then attempting to rescue his two 
friends, for some time filled the boy’s mind. 
At first he entertained them seriously and 
hopefully, then his enthusiasm slowly died 
out, and a great despondency overtook him. 
How was it possible for him to do what Dan 


In the Camp of the Creeks 137 

had done ? Dan had known what tent Mag- 
gie was confined in, and how was he to ascer- 
tain this ? The two prisoners would doubtless 
be housed in different parts of the camp ; the 
one, if indeed he had not already been put to 
death, would be bound and guarded, and the 
other would be surrounded by squaws who, at 
the first approach of an intruder, would raise 
as great a hue and cry as a flock of angry 
geese. The difficulties were insurmountable. 

In the midst of these despondent reflections 
the boy suddenly recalled a prayer taught him 
by his grandmother when he was five or six 
years old, in which were the words, “ Have 
mercy on me, a feeble child.” He had sternly 
resented it when Maggie called him a child ” 
that morning, but in his helplessness and mis- 
ery now he humbly repeated the prayer, so 
amending it that protection was asked for Dan 
and Maggie as well as mercy for that feeble 
child,” himself. 

This heartfelt appeal resulted almost at once 
in a measure of consolation, and slowly brought 


138 In the Camp of the Creeks 


about a revival of hope. But for the present, 
he decided that all he could do was to coast 
along the island southward at a safe distance 
from the shore, hoping to strike the creek 
near the point where Dan had disembarked 
before daylight that morning. Once there, 
provided he escaped observation and was not 
captured, by following the current he would 
undoubtedly reach the outer world in time, 
and could then walk across the country to 
Newton, and join the party with which Dr. 
Foscue had promised to invade the swamp. 

With this in view, Julian lifted the paddle 
and sent the canoe forward. But he soon 
found that it was necessary to penetrate deeply 
into the swamp in order to find open water- 
way, and there was great danger of losing the 
i - innd altogether, so tortuous and bewildering 
V. ;is the course required. Besides, it grew 
I it to and the dreaded prospect of spending a 
night in the swamp alone presented itself. 
However, he knew that it must be faced, the 
only alternative being to go back and land on 


In the Camp of the Creeks 139 

the island shore. He calculated that little 
more than an hour of daylight remained and 
determined to begin his preparations for the 
night at once by collecting moss as he moved 
forward in search of a camping place. The 
Indian blanket had been taken from the canoe 
by Maggie^s captors and he must have other 
covering for the night. 

Gliding into a little open pool some fifty 
feet in diameter and apparently quite deep, 
Julian put down the paddle and set to work 
to catch a fish for his supper. The honey sat- 
isfied his cravings for a time only, and he was 
now ravenously hungry. 

The sight of an alligator’s head which sunk 
out of sight at his approach, filled him with 
misgivings. Not that he feared the creature 
itself, for it is rare in Georgia swamps for an 
alligator voluntarily to attack any one ; but 
Dan had told him that a “ ’gator hole ” was 
poor fishing ground, for a simple and obvious 
reason. The boy was therefore not surprised 
when a half hour of earnest effort resulted in 


140 In the Camp of the Creeks 

the capture of only three small perch and a 
cooter,” or mud-terrapin, of which latter he 
could make no use. He saw that he must be 
content with a light supper, it being now too 
late to search for better fishing-ground. The 
boy thought regretfully of the opportunity to 
shoot a wild turkey that had presented itself 
an hour earlier and of which he had denied 
himself, fearing that the report of his rifle 
would reveal his whereabouts to the Indians. 

By the time he had with some difficulty 
built a fire on a small tussock at the farther 
side of the pool, prepared the three little 
fishes and eaten them half cooked, it was 
growing dark. The question of how to spend 
the night now engaged his attention. The 
tussock was low and damp, and a great quan- 
tity of bark would have to be stripped from 
neighboring trees before a dry couch could be 
assured, and besides Julian knew that at least 
one moccasin was likely to haunt each of 
these tiny islets. Moreover, a sufficiency of 
dry wood to keep a fire going any length of 


In the Camp of the Creeks 141 

time was not to be had. He, therefore, de- 
cided to forego the luxury of a fire and sleep 
in the canoe, afloat on the pool as a safeguard 
against reptiles. It occurred to him as also 
highly desirable to keep the canoe in the 
centre of the sheet of water, as far away as 
possible from the dense encircling trees whose 
foliage might furnish an unseen base of attack 
for a vicious wild-cat or panther. 

But how to cast anchor was the problem. 
In a rocky country it would be easy to tie a 
large stone to a line and drop it overboard, 
but this was quite impossible here. A cord 
long enough to stretch all the way across the 
pool would serve equally well, but whence 
was such a cord to be obtained ? Upon in- 
vestigation Julian found three fishing lines 
in the canoe, and when these were tied to- 
gether the length was found sufficient to 
stretch from a low-hanging branch on one 
side of the pool to another almost directl}^ 
opposite. This pieced line having been se- 
cured at both ends and drawn taut, the boy 


142 In the Camp of the Creeks 

pulled hand over hand to the desired point in 
the middle of the pool and easily attached the 
canoe by means of a piece of string. 

Darkness had now settled upon the swamp 
and the outlines of the trees encircling the 
pool were blurred and indistinct. Thankful 
for the protection of the open and compara- 
tively light space about him, the weary boy 
lay down in the canoe on a soft couch of the 
moss and covered his body with more of the 
same material. Extreme as was his fatigue, 
hours passed before he slept. Hunger made 
him wakeful, and anxiety for the welfare of 
his captive friends, weighed upon his mind. 
And although he felt that his position in the 
centre of the little lake was a reasonable safe- 
guard against the attacks of wild animals, he 
found himself frequently lifting his head 
with a start and listening to strange sounds 
that came from the surrounding swamp, now 
as it were a harsh, unnatural croak, now a 
shrill scream, now a whining cry like that of 
an infant, and at long intervals, a strange 


In the Camp of the Creeks 143 

bellowing sound faint and far away, which he 
afterwards learned was made by alligators. 
The occasional hooting of an owl, though 
weird enough in these surroundings, was a 
relief from the other mysterious and fear-pro- 
voking voices of the great swamp. As he lay 
on his back, looking upward at the stars, the 
only lovely and reassuring feature in a world 
of gloom, Julian recalled his childhood's 
prayer and took comfort in repeating it 
often. 

It must have been near midnight when he 
started up in the canoe and seized his rifle 
with trembling hands. The curious sound of 
infantile whining often heard in the distance, 
seemed to have come nearer and was now fol- 
lowed by the noise made by the leaping of a 
heavy body through the foliage of a tree on 
the borders of the pool. And just as Julian 
caught up his rifle, he saw two flery eyes glar- 
ing forth from the blurred leafage. He 
quickly took aim and fired, the report sug- 
gesting the roar of a small cannon in the 


144 Camp of the Creeks 

stillness of the midnight swamp. The eyes 
then abruptly disappeared and afterwards all 
was still. 

Julian hastened to reload, sat up a while 
looking about him watchfully, and finally 
lay down again. An hour later he was sleep- 
ing soundly. The sky overhead was bright 
when he awoke and the dawn was chasing 
the shadows from beneath the trees. Scan- 
ning the surface of the pool, he promptly 
located the heads of no less than four alli- 
gators resting lazily above water, but was not 
alarmed. 

Loosening the canoe from its anchorage, he 
paddled to one end of the line and untied it. 
He then began winding the three connected 
fishing lines on a stick, meanwhile drawing 
the canoe gradually across the little lake. 
He had arrived within ten feet of the 
opposite shore, his task almost complete, 
and was listening with pleasure to the 
cheerful chirp of several brown swamp- 
sparrows that were hopping about, unabashed 


In the Camp of the Creeks 145 

by the more musical notes of a wood-pewee 
somewhere near, when a slight rustling in 
the foliage of the crowding trees in front of 
him arrested his attention. 

At first he detected nothing to alarm him, 
and was about to go on winding in the line 
when he caught sight of a tail like that of 
an enormous cat nervously beating back and 
forth among the leaves in a manner start- 
lingly suggestive of smothered anger. The 
boy remembered how Dan had said the day 
before that the tail of a panther was wont 
to move in that way when the beast was 
crouching for a spring, and involuntarily he 
caught up the paddle, dipped deep and 
backed water. 

At almost the same instant, uttering a 
fierce snarling cry, the great cat tore through 
the branches surrounding her and descended 
through the air toward her prey. Lucky it 
was for Julian that he had the presence of 
mind to back water so promptly, for this 
alone saved him from the creature's powerful 


146 In the Camp of the Creeks 

claws. Instead of descending immediately 
upon the boy, the panther’s body struck the 
water and only her forepaws grasped the boAv 
of the canoe. Seeing that flight was im- 
possible, Julian dropped the paddle, and 
leaning forward, caught up his rifle just as 
the furious beast crawled into the bow of the 
canoe and crouched for another spring. As 
he looked into the panther’s burning eyes 
and tried to cock and aim his rifle, a be- 
numbing paralysis seemed to lay fast hold 
upon poor Julian’s limbs. 

What followed was like a nightmare. The 
body of the great cat bounded forward, her 
hot breath blowing into the boy’s white face ; 
there was the rude shock of contact, a loud 
report, and Julian was thrown violently 
backward, his legs hooked over the thwart 
which alone saved him from being carried over- 
board. As for the panther, she seemed then 
to be leaping high in the air over his body, 
a part of his torn jacket in her claws; but as 
he regained an upright position, still grasp- 



THE PANTHER’S FOREPAWS GRASPED THE CANOE 




In the Camp of the Creeks 147 

ing the rifle in his right hand, he was amazed 
* to see her body lying crosswise of the canoe 
just in front of him, quivering in the throes 
of death. 


CHAPTER XI 


THE GAUNTLET AND THE COUNCIL HOUSE 

Dan Dennard, in bonds and with a rope 
around his neck, was led into the camp of the 
Creeks in charge of four Indians and fol- 
lowed by several others bearing the body of 
the warrior who had been shot in the 
struggle. The arrival of the party was the 
occasion of cries of lamentation as well as 
shouts of rejoicing. Death had now visited 
two Indian families through his agency, and 
Dan well knew that he need expect no 
mercy. 

The party came to a halt under an oak tree 
near the centre of the camp. Such was their 
respect for the prisoner’s prowess, that, 
although he was surrounded by scores of 
his enemies and escape was impossible, they 
still kept him in bonds. He was made to sit 
down with his back to the tree, to which he 

148 


In the Camp of the Creeks 149 

was secured by a rope passed round his body. 
In the course of the succeeding hour nearly 
the whole camp, men, women and children, 
visited him there. Almost without exception 
the warriors eyed him admiringly and in 
perfect silence, but many of the squaws and 
boys hooted and reviled him, and the wives of 
the dead Indians had to be restrained from 
clawing his unprotected face with their long 
nails. They were, however, suffered to kick 
and spit upon him. 

Make these women let me alone,’^ cried 
Dan indignantly to the warriors standing 
near. I killed two o' your crowd in a fair 
fight, and if you aim to kill me to make up 
for it, do it ; but don’t let that old squaw 
stand there and spit on me. If you’re men 
and not a passel o’ cowards, you won’t allow 
it.” 

This remonstrance, which was at once an 
appeal and a taunt, was understood by many 
of the bystanders and Avas not Avithout effect. 
Both the hideous old squaw of Red Arrow 


150 In the Camp of the Creeks 

who had been strangled, and the less repul- 
sive wife of Water Turtle who had been shot, 
were ordered off and the prisoner was left in 
peace. 

Though deeply despondent, believing there 
was no hope of escaping torture and death, 
Dan nevertheless looked about him with 
some curiosity. His impressions of the night 
before as to the resources of the camp in num- 
bers and outfit were more than confirmed. 
Just what fighting force could take the field 
against the whites in case of a battle, he could 
not definitely decide, more than one scouting 
or raiding party being doubtless absent ; but 
he was prompt to conclude, from various in- 
dications, that three hundred souls was too 
small an estimate of the entire encampment. 
The warriors were all armed with rifles, 
knives, and tomahawks, and probably were 
well supplied with ammunition. It being 
now the breakfast hour, the prisoner had also 
opportunity to observe that the camp was in 
possession of ample stores of beef, bacon, corn- 


In the Camp of the Creeks 151 

meal and other provisions, doubtless taken 
from the farms on the route from Stewart 
County. 

The tents were of circular wigwam pattern, 
but were made of the same stout cotton cloth 
employed by the whites. The Creek Indians 
of that day, from long contact with their 
white neighbors, had advanced beyond not a 
few of their primitive habits of life. The 
warriors for the most part still wore rings in 
their ears and feathers on their heads, went 
naked to the waist and grotesquely marked 
their breasts and faces with paint, but the 
squaws were all decently clothed in home- 
spun cotton or imported calico. It was evi- 
dent that the leaders felt secure in the strength 
of their position and their numbers. As far 
as Dan could see, during that day and night, 
nobody remained on the watch. Certainly 
there were no restrictions as regards noises by 
day or the burning of fires by night. Chil- 
dren screamed, boys raced about, kicking at 
each other, wrestling, and shouting at the top 


152 In the Camp of the Creeks 

of their voices. The women and girls were 
as a rule, engaged in some useful employment, 
but the men, except such as were hunting 
deer on the island or those in the possible 
raiding parties beyond the borders of the 
swamp, were usually lolling lazily on the 
grass smoking their pipes, or squatting in cir- 
cular groups playing a game of chance with 
their knives that suggested stick-frog/^ 

Of course Dan found leisure to observe all 
this only after the excitement occasioned by 
his arrival had subsided. He had been seated 
against the tree some two hours, and all the 
Indians had wandered off or gone about their 
affairs, when he noticed a young negro cross- 
ing an open space between two tents not far 
away, recognized Hightower’s Joe, and beck- 
oned him to approach. 

“ Sorry dey cotch you, boss,” said the negro 
regretfully, as he drew near. 

“ What are you doin’ here? Turned Injun, 
eh?” 

“Who, me?” laughed Hightower’s Joe. 


In the Camp of the Creeks 153 

I gwine to Fluridy wid ^em, you see me 
so/’ 

Ain’t a white master as good as a Injun ? ” 
No-suh-ree ! White master keep me all 
time hoein’ and ploughin’. Indian master 
le’ me go huntin’ and fishin’. De onlyest 
trouble is dey don’t gim-me no biscuits and 
cabbage yuh in dis camp.” 

Partic’lar ’bout your eatin’, eh ? You 
want a heap o’ biscuits and cabbage and 
bacon and syrup and ’tatoes, let ’lone tobacco 
and whiskey ? ” 

“ You mighty right, boss 1 ” 

Well, how'd you like to have money 
enough to buy all that and some gingercakes, 
too? How’d you like to make ten dollars? ” 
Mighty well,” was the prompt answer of 
the young negro who had opened wide his 
eyes and uncovered his glistening teeth. 

'' Well, then,” continued Dan, lowering his 
voice, ‘‘ if the Injuns keep me over night, you 
slip up and untie me about three o’clock to- 
morrow mornin’.” 


154 In the Camp of the Creeks 

All right, suh,’' was the ready promise. 
Several warriors were now seen approaching, 
and the negro began to move away. We 
gwine out to cut a bee tree atter dinner,^’ he 
called back. “ I foun’ it yistiddy myself.’^ 

Dan cherished little hope that the glib 
promise of Hightower’s Joe would be kept. 
Could he act without detection, the negro 
would certainly do so in order to obtain the 
promised reward, indeed there was no reason 
to suppose that he would not be ready to act 
out of pure good nature and the promptings 
of human kindness ; but it was equally cer- 
tain that he would be willing to run no real 
risk, and the hazard was great at the best. 

After being left in peace during more than 
two hours, sitting bound to the tree, Dan felt 
reasonably assured that no more violence 
would be done him until the hour of his exe- 
cution, supposing he was to be condemned ; 
but when at length he observed the forming 
of two long lines of men, women and boys, 
armed with sticks and long, tapering switches, 


In the Camp of the Creeks 155 

he knew that mischief was brewing, although 
never having heard of the custom with some 
Indian tribes of forcing a prisoner to run the 
gauntlet. The two parallel lines Avere about 
six feet apart and more than a hundred yards 
in length. The avenue between led to the 
dooi’Avay of one of the larger tents, in which, 
as Dan soon discovered, the chiefs and coun- 
selors had assembled. The prisoner took note 
of the fact that the stuffed skin of an eagle 
surmounted the entrance to this place, and he 
Avas equally surprised Avhen later he learned 
that the feathers of the same proud bird com- 
posed the Avar flag of the tribe, not knoAving 
that many generations before the Thirteen 
States Avon their independence and adopted 
their flag and ensign, the conquering Mus- 
cogee or Creek nation chose the American 
eagle as the emblem of its greatness and 
poAver. 

As soon as preparations Avere complete, 
several Avarriors approached and led the pris- 
oner to the entrance of the lane of torture. 


156 In the Camp of the Creeks 


His hands still tied behind his back, he was 
then shoved forward and comprehended that 
he was expected to make a dash for the coun- 
cil house or tent under a shower of blows. 
Rather than undergo it, he meditated break- 
ing through the line and dashing for the 
woods, bound as he was. But, although boil- 
ing with anger, he soon recognized that this 
would only prolong his torture. For a dozen 
Indians stood behind him, and behind each 
of the men, women and boys in the lines, 
stood an armed warrior, equally prepared to 
enjoy the sport or to take a hand should the 
prisoner attempt to break away. 

Undergo the ordeal he must, and Dan sum- 
moned all his strength of will to his support 
in order to endure it with manly fortitude. 
If his tormentors wanted to see him run and 
howl like a whipped hound, he was deter- 
mined that they should be disappointed. 
And disappointed they were, although it was 
all the worse for the victim who received 
twice as many blows as he might have, had 


In the Camp of the Creeks 157 

he run the gauntlet in the usual way. While 
hooting in derision, almost every “ buck,’^ 
squaw or boy armed with a stick or switch, 
managed to inflict a blow on the back or 
head of the brave young man as he walked 
rapidly but with unchanging gait toward the 
council house. The result was pitiable. Al- 
ready faint for want of food, further weakened 
by the growing intensity of his sufferings, and 
almost blinded by the blood streaming down 
his face, Dan at length staggered through the 
doorway of the council house and fell for- 
ward on the ground in a half unconscious 
condition. 

Six chiefs were assembled here, in addition 
to eight old men councilors. The latter were 
seated on straw mats against the opposite sides 
of the tent, the former on tanned skins in a 
circle about the centre of the inclosure. The 
inner side of these skins was turned up and 
on each was painted in crude outlines and col- 
ors, the totemic or family badge, or crest, of 
the owner, as a bear, an alligator, a wolf or a 


158 In the Camp of the Creeks 


bird. For in this expedition were represented 
six of the original sub-tribes or families of the 
Creek nation. The miko, or head chief, was 
Pretty Crow of the noble Kunipalgi or skunk 
family, and the under chiefs were Black Hawk 
of the Halpadalgi or alligator tribe. Red Leaf 
of the Nokosalgi or bear tribe. Big Owl of the 
Fusualgi or bird tribe. Little Cloud of the 
Wotkalgi or raccoon tribe, and Swamp Fox of 
the Yahalgi or wolf tribe. 

Brawny warriors were they all, and the 
fiercest, stoutest and ugliest was unquestion- 
ably the miko. Pretty Crow, or “ Billy Buster ” 
as he was called by the whites at the trading 
towns on the Chattahoochee. The old men 
were content with decorations in the shape of 
wampum belts and necklaces of bear claws, 
but the young chiefs wore also feathers and 
earrings, and were painted in all the colors 
of the rainbow. None of them took any no- 
tice of the prisoner as he stumbled into the 
lodge and lay helpless on the ground, but as 
his failing powers revived Dan knew that 


In the Camp of the Creeks 159 

they were taking council of each other as 
to what should be his fate, although he could 
not understand a word. 

The discussion lasted nearly an hour, in the 
course of which each of the old men as well 
as each of the chiefs found something to say. 
Some spoke with anger and excitement, but 
others were calm and deliberate, which led the 
captive to believe that the more hot-headed 
demanded his instant death while the prudent 
perhaps advised that he be kept alive for the 
sake of effecting an exchange in case any 
chief or valuable warrior should be taken by 
the whites in a future battle. That different 
opinions were expressed was perfectly clear. 
Finally one of the Indians rose from his seat 
and touching the prostrate figure of the pris- 
oner in order to claim his attention, thus ad- 
dressed him in broken English : 

Listen, white man — Bold Warrior, listen : 
Me miko, chief. Me Pretty Crow — white 
man call ^ Billy Buster.’ You know tell of 
me?” 


i6o In the Camp of the Creeks 

‘‘You mought be Adam’s house cat for all 
I know,” said Dan, as the Indian paused. 

“ Everywhere white man know ‘ Billy Bus- 
ter,’ big chief,” continued Pretty Crow, un- 
conscious of the captive’s sarcasm. “ Me take 
heap scalp, me kill heap bear, me kill panther, 
me kill wolf. Everywhere white man run 
when Pretty Crow come. Me mighty big 
warrior.” 

“ Anyhow you got a healthy opinion o’ 
yourself.” 

“ Me son of the Kunipalgi since ten thou- 
sand moons.” 

“ Well, I wouldn’t brag about that if I were 
you. But it’s a free country, — every man to 
his taste,” said Dan, sitting up and blinking. 

“ Listen, Bold Warrior,” proceeded Pretty 
Crow with heavy dignity. “ You slip in 
Indian camp — steal little white squaw. You 
kill Red Arrow, you kill Water Turtle ; you 
die. To-mor’ you burn. Pretty Crow, great 
chief, white-man killer, tell you to-mor’ you 
burn.” 


CHAPTER XII 


THE INDIAN POINT OF VIEW 

The sentence of death was no surprise to 
Dan, and he received it in silence. The 
trial being at an end, he supposed that now 
the court would adjourn, and it was so. The 
five other chiefs rose and stood upon the skins 
on which their totemic badges were painted, 
and the old men got themselves up from their 
rush mats, as if preparing to issue forth from 
the tent. At the same time, two warriors 
who had been summoned, looked in at the 
door and ordered the prisoner to follow them. 

Having risen to his feet with some diffi- 
culty, Dan suffered himself to be led out and 
rebound to the tree in the open space. There 
he remained during the greater part of the 
day, exposed to the jeers of the women and 
boys. His wounds were left undressed and, 
although in time the blood ceased to flow, he 
161 


i 62 In the Camp of the Creeks 

presented a pitiable spectacle, his face being 
covered with the dried red fluid. In addition 
to these discomforts, all during the time the 
Indians were cooking and eating their mid- 
day meal, he was tormented by the odors 
that reached him, being now ravenously 
hungry. 

The whole camp had long finished eating 
and even the dogs had been fed when finally, 
by order of the boastful Pretty Crow, an old 
squaw approached the tree under which Dan 
sat, bearing a gourd of water and an earthen 
dish containing boiled beef and corn bread. 
Even then the prisoner’s hands were not un- 
tied, and having broken the bread and torn 
the meat into small bits with her fingers, the 
old woman proceeded with an ill grace to feed 
him, offering him a mouthful at a time on 
the end of a sharp stick and occasionally 
putting the water to his lips. Poor Dan ate 
so eagerly and was so long in being satisfied 
that the squaw appeared to be much disgusted 
and several times contemptuously uttered the 


In the Camp of the Creeks 163 

word suck-aw/’ which when translated be- 
comes “ pig.” 

About three o’clock Hightower’s Joe and 
another negro left the camp bearing axes and 
accompanied by a small party of Indians, no 
doubt bound for the bee tree. Some two 
hours later the prisoner was removed into a 
small vacated tent and made secure for the 
night. This was done by forcing him to lie 
on his back and putting a stout pole across 
his breast to which his wrists were tied with 
bear-grass thongs. His feet were also made 
fast to stakes driven into the ground, and 
finally a rope of deer hide was passed under 
his arms and secured to the tent pole behind 
his head. It was thus made quite impossible 
for him to rise, or even to change his position. 

For a long while afterwards he was left en- 
tirely alone and lay staring at the white roof 
of the tent, thinking mostly of Maggie and 
Julian, and wondering if they had made good 
their escape. Surely the former would other- 
wise have been brought back to camp ere this. 


164 In the Camp of the Creeks 

It chilled his blood to think of the coming 
torture, but the hope that his friends were 
safe made it easier for him to face his own 
dreadful fate. 

Dan had begun to take note that the light 
which had glowed upon the tent’s white roof 
was slowly waning, when a slight sound at- 
tracted his notice and, turning his head a 
little, he saw that the back curtain of the 
tent had been loosened from its stays and was 
being lifted to permit the entrance of a 
crouching female figure. Presently a comely 
young Indian woman stepped within the line 
of his full vision, carrying a large calabash. 
Wondering what was her errand and why she 
had come in this stealthy way, he spoke to 
her civilly, asking her what she wished of 
him. 

No speak loud,” she cautioned him, in a 
low, pleasing voice. “ Me Hi-lo-lo — the Cur- 
lew, you call.” 

Without further explanation, she proceeded 
to wash the captive’s bloody face with tepid 


In the Camp of the Creeks i6j 

water from the calabash, into which she 
clipped a cloth, and this done, applied a 
soothing ointment to his wounds. 

‘‘ You’re a mighty good gal,” remarked the 
astonished young man in the course of the 
operation, and I’m powerful obliged to you. 
It’s a wonder to me you’ll take the trouble. 
Don’t you hate white folks like the rest o’ the 
Injuns?” 

Yes, hate, hate ! ” cried Hi-lo-lo with sud- 
den passion. “ White men bad. Take Indian 
land. Drive Indian away — make war, kill. 
White man hog — take all. Indian have 
nothing. Wind moan in tree for poor In- 
dian. Leaf drop tear for pity poor Indian.” 

“ Then why are you so good to me ? ” 
Hi-lo-lo found it difficult to muster suf- 
ficient English to explain herself, but finally 
made Dan understand that although the 
conquering, crowding white race was the 
object of her inextinguishable hatred, she 
had been moved with compassion by the 
spectacle of the sufferings of the one white 


i66 In the Camp of the Creeks 

man to whom her people by common consent 
had awarded the title of Bold Warrior. 
Fearing to approach him openly, she had 
come secretly on her errand of mercy. 

“And that’s all? ’’asked Dan. “ I was a 
hopin’ maybe you had some reason to want 
to git shed o’ me, and would ontie me and 
let me have another chance to run. Well, 
anyhow, you’re a good gal and I’m mightily 
beholden to you.” 

“ Me no gal,” said Hi-lo-lo. “ Me wife great 
chief. Black Hawk.” 

“ Well if he ain’t good to you he ought to 
be killed,” said Dan, with emphasis. 

It was evident that the kindly Hi-lo-lo did 
not like this speech ; clearly the Curlew 
loved the Hawk. Again she proudly asserted 
that her husband was a great chief. Never- 
theless she looked sad, and presently she 
went on to say that it was the great Black 
Hawk who had led the raid beyond the 
borders of the swamp on the previous day 
and brought back the white girl captive. 


In the Camp of the Creeks 167 

“ Black Hawk call white girl in sleep,” 
she added in a troubled way. 

“ I reckon you was glad to git shed o’ lier, 
then,” said Dan, seeing the drift of things. 

She no go,” replied Hi-lo-lo sadly. 
“ Black Hawk go after — bring back.” 

When ? ” asked Dan, excitedly. 

“Now. She find in bith-low — canoe. 
Black Hawk swim swamp — ketch canoe. 
Water Lily in camp now. Black Hawk 
happy.” 

“ And Ju-ul — was she alone when they 
caught her ? ” 

Hi-lo-lo answered yes, and went on to tell 
him of what was looked upon as a very 
strange circumstance in the Indian camp : 
the party sent back for the canoe had failed 
to find it. It was difficult for Dan to repress 
an exultant exclamation on hearing this 
neAVS, which Avas proof enough that Julian 
was still at liberty and master of the canoe. 
If the boy only knew the SAvamp ! There 
was the trouble. 


i6S In the Camp of the Creeks 

‘‘ Look here, Hi-lo-lo,’' proposed the captive 
eagerly, “ if you want the white girl out o' 
the way, you ought to turn her loose to-night 
after everybody is asleep. But it won't do 
any good unless you turn me loose, too, be- 
cause she can't get out o' the swamp by her- 
self. You turn us both loose and put us to- 
gether late to-night, and then you’ll be all 
right. The Black Hawk will come to his 
senses and remember what a nice, good, fine- 
lookin' little wife he has. Understand ? " 

Hi-lo-lo understood perfectly, but shook 
her head. She dared not. Besides, she was 
probably too loyal to run counter to the 
wishes of the tribe for the sake of a private 
benefit, and then it was inevitable that Black 
Hawk should some day take another wife 
an^diow, according to tribal custom. 

‘‘ No, white man," she said in proud 
disdain, but her face was none the less sad as 
she took up the calabash and turned to go. 
Fresh words of argument, persuasion and 
entreaty rushed to Dan's lips, but the only 


In the Camp of the Creeks 169 

answer was the slight noise made by tlie 
dropping of the tent cloth behind the retiring 
figure of the good Samaritan. 

Some three-quarters of an hour before this, 
the bee tree party had returned to camp and 
after the rejoicing crowd that welcomed them 
had been allowed to take another look at the 
shrinking girl, Maggie was delivered into the 
care of two old squaws called Chip-e-lop-law 
(the Whippoorwill) and Sho-ko-chee (the 
Sparrow-hawk). The two old women were 
widows occupying a tent to themselves, and 
they were now cautioned to bind their charge 
hand and foot before they lay down to sleep, 
as a safeguard against a repetition of last 
night’s events. In all other respects the girl 
soon found that she was to be treated with 
great tenderness and consideration, express 
orders to that end having been given by 
Black Hawk as well as by the head chief. 
Pretty Crow, himself. Seated on a soft couch 
of cured skins in the privacy of an ample 
tent, the fair captive was presently offered a 


lyo In the Camp of the Creeks 

gourd of cold water togetlier with food tliat 
had been prepared for the evening meal of 
the chiefs. 

Maggie had disdainfully refused the honey 
offered her by Black Hawk at the bee tree, 
but she now gladly accepted the good gifts 
that were placed before her, not, however, 
until after she had inquired as to the fate of 
Dan and learned that he still lived. That he 
should be burned at the stake next day was 
the decree of the morning council, the old 
squaws told her ; but later it had been decided 
to delay his execution at the earnest advice 
of the priest or spirit-doctor, who wished the 
celebration of the new moon festival to be de- 
ferred no longer, and during a religious festival 
it was not becoming to put even an enemy of 
the nation to death. The proper time for the 
festival had fallen while the Creeks were on 
the march and postponement was unavoid- 
able ; but now, while they rested comfortably 
in their secure retreat, there was no further 
excuse for delay. How long the execution of 


In the Camp of the Creeks 171 


Bold Warrior was to be postponed, neither 
the wrinkled old Chip-e-lop-law nor the 
equally ill-favored old Sho-ko-chee could say. 

It was with intense relief that Maggie heard 
this news. Fondly indulging the hope that 
meanwhile the militia would come to the res- 
cue, she became almost cheerful. While eat- 
ing the tempting supper placed before her, 
she asked the meaning of sounds of mourning 
and a recurring chant-like song that evidently 
came from a neighboring tent. Sho-ko-chee, 
the Sparrow-hawk, who could express herself 
fairly well in English, having lived near the 
whites in times of peace, explained that Fost- 
chi-taw (the Red Bird), wife of Water Turtle, 
was weeping for her dead lord and singing a 
funeral song in his honor. Being asked 
what were the words of the song, she listened 
intently a few minutes, then made a transla- 
tion something like this : 

“ Farewell, O my loved one 1 Thou hast 
gone beyond the great river. Thy spirit is 
on the far side of the tall mountains, and I 


ij2 In the Camp of the Creeks 

shall not see thee for a hundred winters. But 
thou wilt scalp the enemy, thou wilt slay the 
deer, in the green forests beyond the great 
river. When the warriors of the Muscogee 
meet together, when they smoke the medi- 
cine pipe and dance the war dance, they will 
ask : ‘ Where is the Water Turtle ? Where is 
the bravest of the Muscogee ? ^ Then shall 
Fost-chi-taw answer: ^ He fell on the war- 
path ; he is gone to the hunting land of the 
brave departed.’ Farewell, O my loved 
one ! ” 

Pity for the widow, the poor stricken Red 
Bird, filled the heart of Maggie as she listened 
to renewed wailing, followed by a repetition 
of the funeral song. The widow of Water 
Turtle, the old squaws told her, would weep 
and sing in this way at sunrise, at noon and 
at sunset, until the dead warrior had made 
the journey to the land of spirits, for which 
three days Avere required. 

The party returning with Maggie from the 
bee tree that afternoon had halted a few 


In the Camp of the Creeks 173 

minutes in a little clearing several hundred 
yards beyond the borders of the camp and 
stood gazing reverently on two newly made 
graves lying east and west, wherein, as the 
girl at once understood, lay the bodies of the two 
Indians who owed their death to Dan. On 
each mound a fresh fire of lightwood knots 
was burning, and at the side of each lay a rifle, 
a powder horn and a shot-pouch. A large 
dish of food was also at hand in each case, 
presumably for the nourishment of the spirits 
of the dead. 

‘‘ I saw his grave, remarked Maggie now, 
as old Sho-ko-chee continued to speak of 
Water Turtle. What was the fire, and the 
rifle, and all that meat and bread there for?’' 

Old Chip-e-lop-law shook her head as if loath 
to speak on such a subject with a stranger, 
but Sho-ko-chee answered solemnly that a fire 
was kept burning on the grave for three suc- 
cessive nights in order to light the spirit on 
its journey. The food was for the spirit’s 
sustenance by the way and the rifle was for 


174 In the Camp of the Creeks 

use in the pleasant hunting grounds “ beyond 
the great river.” The difficulty presented 
by the fact that the fire was always on 
the same spot, that the food would remain 
untouched, and that the rifle would not be 
carried away, did not appear to disturb 
the credulous mind of the aged Sparrow- 
hawk in the least. Not so Maggie. 

But,” insisted the girl argumentatively, 

unless a dog or some wild animal eats it, 
that same bread and meat will stay there until 
it dries away to nothing — Water Turtle canT 
eat it.” 

At this not only Chip-e-lop-law seemed 
annoyed but Sho-ko-chee as well, and they 
cast indignant looks at the matter-of-fact young 
girl as they began talking rapidly in the 
Creek language ; but finally Sho-ko-chee con- 
cluded to undertake the difficulties of explain- 
ing that it was not the food itself but its 
spiritual essence that would be eaten by the 
journeying spirit of Water Turtle. Whether 
it was also the spiritual essence of the rifle 


In the Camp of the Creeks 175 

that would be employed to shoot deer in the 
delightful hunting grounds of the hereafter, 
she did not say and Maggie decided that she 
had better not ask. The girl suspected that 
on the third night the spirit-doctor or priest 
would go out to the graves and remove both 
rifles. She did not dare even to hint at such a 
thought, but made bold to inquire as to the 
fate of good warriors in the hunting grounds 
beyond the great river. 

“ Have good time ; shoot plenty deer, take 
plenty scalp,” was Sho-ko-chee’s answer, 
although Chip-e-lop-law interrupted to bid the 
girl be quiet. 

“ And how about bad warriors ? ” 

‘^Do same,” replied Sho-ko-chee, adding 
that there was, however, this difference, that 
the good were taken under the care of Isakita 
Immissi, the Master of Life and “helped,” 
while the bad were compelled to shift for 
themselves. 

Even to Maggie’s unreflective young mind 
this seemed a strange if not unjust arrange- 


176 In the Camp of the Creeks 


ment of future rewards and punishments, an 
she was about to ask further questions, when 
the attention of all was attracted by sounds of 
sudden commotion in the camp. 


CHAPTER XIII 


THE KIVALRY OF PRETTY CROW AND BLACK HAWK 

The noise that checked further inquiry 
from Maggie was the beating of drums and 
the blowing of horns, intended to call the 
people together in the centre of the camp. 
The effect upon the Sparrow-hawk and the 
Whippoorwill was immediate and decisive. 
Getting promptly upon their feet, they began 
to talk rapidly in the Creek, meanwhile cast- 
ing frequent glances at Maggie. It was clear 
that they wished to go forth and were at a loss 
to know what to do with her. To leave her 
behind was unsafe ; to take her would perhaps 
anger the chiefs. 

Being determined not to lose their share of 
the excitement, they finally decided to take 
her. Calling her to the door of the tent, they 
placed her between them and grasping her 
hands, led her forth. On their way toward 

177 


178 In the Camp of the Creeks 

the centre of the camp, the girl noticed three 
whining dogs tied to a tent pole and asked 
the meaning of it. Old Chip-e-lop-law looked 
askance at her associate, while the obliging 
Sho-ko-chee made in answer the astonishing 
statement that dogs were not in favor with 
the moon deity, whose festival was now begun, 
and that the Creeks, therefore, even went so 
far as to beat their dogs during the moon’s 
eclipse. She stated further that the eclipse 
was caused by a great terrible dog attempting 
to tear out the vitals of the kindly moon-god, 
in which undertaking it fortunately never 
succeeded. 

Great goodness! ” cried Maggie. “Where 
does the dog come from ? How could it get 
up to the moon ? ” She was almost ready 
to believe that she was being trifled with. 

“ White gal talk too much,” said old Sho- 
ko-chee, angered at last by the girl’s critical 
tone. “ Talk much, know little ; plenty 
tongue, no wisdom.” 

After this they moved forward in silence 


In the Camp of the Creeks 179 

and took their places in the crowd assembled 
near the centre of the camp. Here within 
an open space, in the view of all, stood a 
solitary Indian clothed in the skins of animals, 
his face painted in many colors, who, as 
Maggie learned later, was the priest or medi- 
cine-man. With his eyes intently fixed on 
the moon, which had just risen, he uttered 
the most hideous sounds, at one moment like 
the howling of a whipped hound, at another 
like the snarling of an angry cat. This curious 
performance was kept up until his lungs failed 
him, when the whole assembly took up the 
chorus, so to speak, barking like dogs or 
wolves, and shrieking out all manner of 
strange sounds. 

The only variation from this discordant din 
was a dance around an upright pole painted 
in a variety of colors. Six leading warriors 
in their war paint, including the priest, went 
madly leaping around this pole, each shaking 
a gourd-rattle containing pebbles. When 
these were wearied, six others took their 


i8o In the Camp of the Creeks 

places, and so on in turn, the assembled on- 
lookers howling as before. The uproar was 
kept up until midnight, long after Maggie, at 
her earnest request, had been taken back to 
the tent and securely bound there in order 
that her guardians might return to the throng, 
and again take part in the strange jubilee. 

Thus was inaugurated the festival of the 
new moon, which, fortunately for Dan, was to 
last three days according to custom. The 
nights were spent in fasting and in the 
manner just described, and the days in feast- 
ing, games and athletic sports. 

It was early the next morning, before the 
festivities of the day had begun, that Maggie 
was honored by a visit from Pretty Crow, the 
head chief. Being introduced into their tent 
by the two highly gratified old women, the 
warrior seated himself on a bearskin before 
the startled young girl. 

“ Me Pretty Crow, big warrior, big chief,’’ 
he said, with as amiable a smile as he could 
muster, after the wondering Sparrow-hawk 


In the Camp of the Creeks i8i 

and Whippoorwill had withdrawn from the 
tent at his bidding. 

Maggie said nothing in answer to this mod- 
est announcement, and awaited his further 
remarks. The girl was sure that never before 
had she looked upon so hideous an object in 
human guise. The chief was arrayed in what 
was probably his full dress, everything in the 
way of Indian finery being lavished upon 
him. His deerskin moccasins and leggings 
were decorated with wampum and he wore a 
gaudily embroidered belt of similar bead- 
work. His forearms were almost covered witli 
bracelets of the same and his naked breast 
and shoulders were painted in all the colors of 
the rainbow. Around his neck was a string 
of bear's teeth and claws and from long slits 
in his ears hung bright-colored ornaments. 
His broad and naturally repulsive face was 
disfigured the more by streaks of red, blue 
and black paint, a red circle being drawn 
round the right eye and a blue one round the 
left. In addition to all this — Maggie laughed 


i 82 In the Camp of the Creeks 

to tell of it afterward — his head was covered 
with a “ beaver ” or old-fashioned stove-pipe 
hat. The last article had been captured in 
the recent raid of Roanoke in Stewart County, 
and in view of his errand, was perhaps con- 
sidered a more fitting head-dress than the 
fillet of a dozen turkey feathers which usually 
crowned his long, coarse hair. 

“ Bold Warrior burn,” continued Pretty 
Crow impressively. ‘‘ Bold Warrior kill Red 
Arrow, kill Water Turtle ; Indian burn him 
to pay. But little Water Lily no burn. 
Water Lily keep for squaw. Pretty Crow — 
me — keep Water Lily — keep for squaw.” 

“ Oh, you will, will you?” cried Maggie, 
filled with uncontrollable anger and disgust, as 
she grasped his meaning. I’d like to see 
you do it. It takes two to make a bargain.” 

Although sixteen years of age and to all 
appearances a woman, Maggie was, in many 
respects, a child. All consciousness of her 
helpless position, all sense of prudence, w^ere 
now lost sight of in the tempest of her wrath. 


In the Camp of the Creeks 183 

You can burn me, too ! '' she exclaimed 
recklessly. “ I’d die before I’d marry a nasty 
old Creek Injun like you. I’ll have you to 
understand that I look a little higher than a 
howlin’ red idjit out o’ the bushes ! ” 

“Water Lily my squaw — yes,” repeated 
Pretty Crow with a satisfied air, far from un- 
derstanding the full meaning of the girl’s rap- 
idly spoken words. 

“ Go away from here and stop pesterin’ me 
before I hurt you ! ” cried Maggie, with a 
threatening manner, but retreating farther 
from him. 

“ Water Lily wild — Pretty Crow make 
tame,” said the chief, rising. He kept his 
temper, and something like admiration of her 
spirit was expressed in his glance. “ Water 
Lily go in Pretty Crow wigwam when come 
Seminole land,” he said finally, as he turned to 
quit the tent. 

Hardly was he out of sight when Black 
Hawk appeared and was introduced into 
Maggie’s presence, announcing a similar er- 


184 In the Camp of the Creeks 

rand. He was of the best type of his nation, 
tall, slender, with a rather handsome face and 
an intelligent, black eye. Although his body 
was naked to the waist, his decorations were 
less outlandish, in better taste and simpler 
than those of Pretty Crow. His moccasins 
and leggings were of the finest, and his wam- 
pum belt was richly embroidered, but his face 
was not painted and his only ornaments were 
gold bracelets and a single peacock feather 
half a foot in length standing upright in his 
hair. Seating himself on the bearskin in front 
of Maggie, he spoke better English but was no 
less abrupt than his predecessor in making 
known the object of his visit. 

Great goodness ! ’’ the girl exclaimed with 
a wearied air, how many more of ’em are 
there? If this keeps up I won’t be able to 
eat any dinner. I’m that sick now I don’t 
know what to do.” 

“ Black Hawk great warrior,” the chief con- 
tinued earnestly. No shame for Water Lily 
be his squaw. Black Hawk head of the Hal- 


In the Camp of the Creeks 185 

padalgi since ten thousand moons. Black 
Hawk — me — last son of the Sacred Alligator.^’ 
“ I don’t care if you’re the son of a mud- 
cooter ! ” cried Maggie. 

Nevertheless she was moved in a measure 
by the earnest glance of the young chief’s 
dark eye, which was at once eloquent and 
respectful. She promptly recognized a differ- 
ence between him and the vain and hideous 
Pretty Crow, and soon felt disposed to forgive 
his folly, provided he would not press his 
suit. 

Black Hawk love daughter of the white 
people,” urged the chief — see her all night in 
dream. Her face sweeter to see than dew on 
the leaf in the bright summer morning.” 

Look here, Black Hawk,” said Maggie in 
a friendly tone, touched by this earnest decla- 
ration. Don’t you know it’s not in reason to 
expect a white girl to be willin’ to marry a 
Injun. Go away and don’t pester me; you 
ought to know I can’t do it. Be satisfied with 
the Indian woman that God made for you.” 


i86 In the Camp of the Creeks 

“Hi-lo-lo not please me now,” was the 
answer, with a shake of the head. 

That’s your wife’s name, is it?” asked 
Maggie, taking note of the fact. 

“ Black Hawk be good to Water Lily,” 
promised the young Indian with another 
pleading look. 

“ Well, I’m free to say I’d a long sight 
rather trust you for that than that ugly old 
Pretty Crow, but you must reely excuse 
me.” 

Black Hawk suppressed an exclamation of 
surprise and a jealous, angry gleam shot from 
his eye. He had seen the miko issue from 
the captive’s tent and now knew what his 
visit meant. 

“ If no come to Black Hawk, Pretty Crow 
take you,” he said cunningly. “ Must choose 
— no help. Who save you ? ” 

The able-bodied men of Baker County — 
that’s who,” said Maggie in rising anger. 

White men no help you. Indian too 
strong. White men scare’.” 


In the Camp of the Creeks 187 

“ We’ll see ! ” cried Maggie, with a furious 
toss of her little red head. “ If they don’t 
come soon and run every last one o’ you out 
o’ this swamp, I’ll never speak to one of ’em 
again. If you all know what’s good for you, 
you’ll turn me and Dan loose and let us go 
home.” 

“ No let go,” answered Black Hawk, 
firmly. “ Bold Warrior burn — Water Lily 
keep for squaw.” 

Maggie saw that argument was useless and 
held her tongue. “ Didn’t that moccasin bite 
you yesterday ? ” she asked in order to change 
the subject. “ I thought you was goin’ to see 
sights.” 

Little hurt — soon well,” was the answer, as 
the chief glanced indifferently at his slightly 
swollen hand. He now rose to retire, con- 
cluding not to press his claims further at 
the present time. 

How are they treatin’ Dan ? ” asked 
Maggie. “ Do they give him anything to eat ? 
Won’t you please go and tell him he’s got 


i88 In the Camp of the Creeks 

till day after to-morrow to live? And tell 
him howdy for me ? 

Her repeated request to be allowed to see 
him herself had been refused, but she hoped 
that her present appeal might not be entirely 
useless. For the first time she smiled and a 
pleading expression crept into her face. Black 
Hawk, stoical warrior that he was, proud 
descendant of the sacred mythical alligator 
that lived ten thousand moons ago, was not 
proof against this and he readily gave the 
promise, although Dan’s comfort was of no 
concern to him. 

‘‘ Me go quick — now,” he said, and with one 
more eloquent glance he departed. 

Soon afterward the festivities of the day 
began. Maggie heard the sound of drums 
and horns and presently the rasping noise of 
the gourd-rattles which continued for a long 
while as an accompaniment to some dance or 
athletic game. The two old squaws seemed 
less eager to go forth than on the evening 
before. The visits of the two chiefs had 


In the Camp of the Creeks 189 

doubtless interfered with their morning’s 
labors and long after the merriment began, 
they sat in their wigwam, each busily making 
a pair of moccasins out of tanned deerskin 
and talking constantly the while. Finally, 
however, as the uproar without increased, they 
put by their work and taking Maggie by the 
hand, set forth. 

The sports had begun with races and wrest- 
ling matches among the Indian boys, and 
some thirty of the latter were now dancing 
with more agility than grace up and down 
the central open space of the camp, encour- 
aged by the shouts of their elders, who 
stood along the four sides of a square, looking 
on with intense interest. The two old squaws 
and their charge, being late comers, were com- 
pelled to halt on the outskirts of the crowd, 
whence they could see but little at first. But 
as the young dancers wearied and retired, a 
movement of those in front of the three women 
enabled them to draw nearer and obtain a full 
view of the open space. 


190 In the Camp of the Creeks 

It was just at this moment that a youthful 
figure leaped into the arena at the farther end, 
and at once attracted all eyes by his dexterity 
and grace. He was a boy of some fourteen 
years, curiously attired in a mixture of Indian 
and white man’s costume. His shirt and 
trousers were strangely at variance with the 
half dozen crimson feathers of the cardi- 
nal bird standing upright in his hair, and a 
necklace made of a long, brownish-yellow, cat- 
like tail with rings of a lighter tint, to which 
were attached the long curved claws of a pan- 
ther. His hair was as black as a raven’s, but 
curly, and though his skin was swarthy, he 
seemed too fair for an Indian. His face was 
hideously streaked with a dingy yellow paint, 
however, and Maggie was in no doubt as to his 
nationality until he drew nearer in the course 
of the dance. 

After doing several pigeon wings ” and 
double shuffles ” in the most rapid and 
skilful fashion, the astonished assembly 
meanwhile looking on in silent admiration, 


In the Camp of the Creeks 191 

the boy suddenly bent down and, elevating 
his feet in the air, began to hop about and 
dance on his hands with the greatest ease and 
apparent comfort, still keeping time to the 
beat of the gourd-rattles and Indian drums. 

The onlookers were at first dumb with as- 
tonishment at such unheard of performances, 
but soon began to manifest their pleasure by 
uproarious laughter and shouts, some of the 
more youthful warriors actually rolling over 
on the ground in their merriment, and when 
the boy ceased, there was heard an almost 
universal cry : 

“ Do so more ! Do so more ! 

The call for more being spoken in English, 
Maggie knew at once that the dancer was not 
believed to be an Indian. It was then, as she 
stepped forward with a searching glance, and 
as the boy stood smiling and looking fear- 
lessly around upon the shouting assembly, 
that the girl was amazed and alarmed to 
recognize Julian. 


CHAPTER XIV 


A boy’s idea 

After Julian had shot the panther, which 
sprang into his canoe when the long, lonely 
night in the swamp was ended, he sat still for 
a few moments, staring, panting, and hugging 
his rifle for fear the beast would revive and 
spring at him again. Then, although his 
hands were trembling, he lost no time in ram- 
ming in another charge. As the panther 
meanwhile remained immovable, the boy con- 
cluded that his terrible enemy was really 
dead, and did not Are again. He was, how- 
ever, on his guard, as he stepped to the centre 
of the canoe, across which the heavy body 
lay. Bending down, he saw that the ball had 
entered the animal’s head above the left eye, 
causing instant death. While congratulating 
himself upon the result, Julian humbly ad- 
192 


In the Camp of the Creeks 193 

mitted to himself that the discharge of his 
rifle was practically accidental. 

His next concern was to get rid of the body. 
While considering how to dump it overboard, 
it occurred to him as a fine thing to cut off 
the beast’s tail and claws as trophies. There 
being both a hatchet and a hunting knife in 
the canoe, he found little difficulty in doing 
this, after which, by using the paddle as a 
lever, he succeeded in heaving the dead beast 
overboard without accident, although the 
canoe dipped water and he came near losing 
his balance. 

As the dead panther floated on the surface 
of the little lake, a most forlorn spectacle, the 
sleepy-looking alligators, whose heads rested 
above water, suddenly showed signs of life and 
swam rapidly forward. Whether or not they 
tore the body limb from limb and devoured it 
J ulian did not wait to see. His empty stomach 
had already turned sick at sight of the blood 
trickling down on the gunwale of the canoe 
and his strongest impulse was to hurry away. 


194 In the Camp of the Creeks 

Dipping the paddle vigorously, he sent the 
canoe rapidly forward into the opening by 
which the lake had been entered the night 
before. Not until the alligators and their 
prey were shut from his view by intervening 
trees did he stop to bail the water out of the 
canoe. He then threw the panther’s tail and 
claws out of sight in the bow, and dipping a 
handful of moss into the water, washed the 
blood from the gunwale. 

A few minutes later the canoe entered 
another small bit of open water, evidently 
quite deep, and Julian set about catching a 
fish for his breakfast. Fortune favored him, 
and ere long, after some moments of thrilling 
sport, he lifted a fine three-pound black bass 
into the canoe. A fire was then built on a 
neighboring tussock, the fish cut into slices 
and broiled on the coals, and the boy ate 
heartily and thankfully. 

He now felt better and more hopeful, hut 
for some time sat idly in the canoe, consider- 
ing what to do. His experience up to the 


In the Camp of the Creeks 195 

present moment convinced him that there 
was little prospect of his being able to find 
his way through the swamp to the outer 
world. He might wander for days, and mean- 
while what would become of Dan and Mag- 
gie? Were it not out of the question to cross 
the island unseen, he knew he could find the 
creek whose current would finally take him 
beyond the borders of the swamp ; but even if 
he could pass the camp without being stopped, 
there would be no canoe to fioat him. And 
as he had found on the previous afternoon, to 
attempt to coast the island down to the creek 
was but to advance deeper and deeper into 
the swamp and inevitably to go astray. 

Harried by his perplexities, poor Julian be- 
gan almost to wish that the Indians had taken 
him prisoner also. In that case he would now 
at least be in a position to know the fate of 
Maggie and Dan, whom he longed to see, and 
for whose present misfortunes he felt that his 
carelessness alone was responsible. How was 
it that he, the culprit, went free while they 


196 In the Camp of the Creeks 

were left to suffer? Was it the caution of 
cowardice that had preserved him ? Scourged 
as it were by a very whip in the thought of 
this unjust and dreadful accusation, for a mo- 
ment the poor boy determined to share volun- 
tarily the captivity of his friends quite as 
much in order to ease his troubled conscience 
as to help them plan an escape. 

It was while this impulse lasted that it sud- 
denly occurred to Julian to land on the island 
and walk boldly into the Indian camp, carry- 
ing a flag of truce and pretending that he was 
a herald from the white forces now supposed 
to be gathering at Newton. He might say to 
the Indian chiefs that he had been sent to 
offer favorable terms, that in return for the 
surrender of the captives now in their hands 
the whites would agree to overlook their raid 
of the 27th and allow them an unmolested 
passage to the Florida line, provided of course 
that they went in peace and committed no 
further depredations. Surely, thought Julian, 
the Creeks would agree to such generous 


In the Camp of the Creeks 197 

terms at once. No doubt they would allow 
the captives to return with him, and begin 
their preparations to march out of the swamp 
without delay. 

In the enthusiasm awakened by this engag- 
ing idea, Julian made light of the difficulties 
in the way, and it never occurred to him that 
the Indians would be surprised to find a mere 
boy the messenger from the whites, or that 
they would inquire into the manner of his 
arrival on the island and would be likely to 
suspect the imposture. It did occur to him 
that the whites might not be willing to agree to 
the terms of the treaty which he proposed to 
make, but he trusted that his earnest persua- 
sions would in the end induce them to abide 
by his promises to the Indians. Flags of 
truce were always respected, so far as he had 
heard or read, and he therefore had no fear of 
being fired upon. That the Indians might 
reject the proposed treaty, and hurl defi- 
ance in the face of their peace-desiring foes, 
was of course possible, but in that event they 


198 In the Camp of the Creeks 


would surely allow the bearer of the white 
flag to depart in peace. 

The moral side of the imposture did not 
trouble the boy. His statements would be un- 
true, but he believed the proposed deception 
to be the only way and quite justiflable in 
view of the circumstances. And certainly 
his pretended embassy was likely to harm no 
one, and was meant not only to save the lives 
of Dan and Maggie but to prevent further 
bloodshed. Such being his object, he thought 
no one would blame him, and believed that 
no sin would lie at his door even if the great 
plan failed. 

While paddling over the backward track to- 
ward the island shore, Julianas fertile imagi- 
nation rapidly developed the particulars of his 
plan. He decided that his handkerchief, tied 
to the end of a long green stick cut for the 
purpose, should serve as the flag of truce. In 
order to inspire greater respect, he would take 
with him the panther’s tail and claws as evi- 
dences of the great adventure that marked his 


In the Camp of the Creeks 199 

passage through the swamp. As for the canoe, 
he thought it would be prudent to leave it 
carefully concealed, in case his plans should 
not succeed. 

Half an hour later the island shore was 
reached, at a point near that where the land- 
ing had been made on the previous afternoon. 
Looking warily in advance for possible 
Indians, and with an eye for a favorable spot 
in which to conceal the canoe, Julian presently 
glided into some tall rushes, tied his little 
craft to an up-rooted pine that had fallen 
into the swamp, then making his way 
through the dead branches, he walked along 
the trunk of the tree to the shore. His first 
act was now to hide his rifie under the log, 
covering it with pine needles and bark. He 
then proceeded to tie the two ends of the fiex- 
ible panther tail together, attach to it the four 
paws at equal distances apart, and drape this 
odd necklace over his shoulders, thinking that 
such an ornament would please the Indians, 
of whose necklaces of bear-claws he had heard. 


200 


In the Camp of the Creeks 

One feature of his grotesque costume led to 
another. The clay on the roots of the fallen 
pine was a vivid yellow, and suggested to him 
the idea of painting his face after the Indian 
fashion. He had moistened some of the clay 
with water and was streaking his cheeks with 
yellow, watching his reflection in a puddle, 
when he heard the flutter of wings, and 
looked up to see a cardinal bird resting like a 
tongue of flame on a green branch within 
twenty feet. In his hurry to secure more 
Indian finery, Julian did not stop to reflect 
that it was an outrage to kill so beautiful and 
harmless a creature. Had his rifle been at 
hand, and had it been safe to shoot, the bird 
would not have been allowed to fly away. 
The pretty thing was probably looking for its 
mate, for Julian presently came upon the 
feathers of another red bird that had no doubt 
furnished a light breakfast for a hawk. The 
flnest of the scattered feathers soon adorned 
the raven hair of the boy, who now appeared 
to he neither Caucasian nor Indian. 


201 


In the Camp of the Creeks 

The tyty, hemleaf and cassina bushes that 
fringed the swamp gave place to clumps 
of palmetto and blackjack, as Julian advanced 
up the slope. The backbone of the island was 
the usual pine and wiregrass of Southern 
Georgia woods, but over to the right the boy 
saw what was evidently a very dense ham- 
mock and congratulated himself on having 
landed just where he did. Following the 
direction taken by the Indian party on the 
previous afternoon, he felt confident that he 
would not go astray. 

During the whole tramp he saw no sign of 
a human creature. Even after the camp was 
sighted he saw grazing horses long before any 
Indian was visible. Such sentinels as were on 
duty during the sports of the festival were 
stationed on the opposite and more exposed 
side of the island, and thus Julian found 
himself walking into th,e camp itself with- 
out attracting notice. He attributed this 
to the evident and probably unusual excite- 
ment of the moment. He heard the beat of 


202 


In the Camp of the Creeks 

the drums, the swish-swish of the gourd-rattles, 
and seeing a great crowd collected in the 
central space of the camp, he was overwhelmed 
with a sickness of soul at the thought that 
Dan might be burning at the stake. 

He halted irresolute, his courage almost for- 
saking him, but on noting the regular tramp 
of feet, he guessed that the assembly was wit- 
nessing a dance, and went forward. Thus the 
self-appointed herald of peace drew near the 
very outskirts of the crowd unobserved. 
Although some few hurried glances swept 
over him without pausing to scrutinize, by 
such he was doubtless classified as a masque- 
rading Indian boy. 

Every interest was centred upon the 
dancers, including after a few breathless 
moments that of the boy himself. Julian 
was an adept in dancing as well as something 
of an acrobat. He saw almost at a glance that 
the dancers were without skill and that it 
would be easy to eclipse them every one. He 
thought if he joined the dance it might be a 


In the Camp of the Creeks 203 

further means of pleasing; at any rate it was 
a way to attract prompt and universal attention. 
Therefore, as the Indian boys retired to the 
sides, he leaped into view, flung down his flag, 
danced on his feet and then on his hands, as 
has been told, until the amazed and delighted 
spectators shouted again and again : 

“ Do so more I 

And do so more he did, to the unflagging 
delight of the crowd. But at length he 
wound up his performances, and, catching up 
the white flag, again lifted it above his head, 
and stood smiling upon the applauding assem- 
bly. Then it was that the chief men of the 
Creeks stepped forward and crowded eagerly 
round the strangely attired youth who, to 
all appearances, had dropped from the 
clouds. 

Who you, white boy? Where come?^’ 
asked half a dozen at once. 

“ From the white men,’’ said Julian, point- 
ing to his fluttering handkerchief, to propose 
terms of peace. 


204 the Camp of the Creeks 

How learn such dance ? ” was then asked. 

White boy know great dance.’^ 

Where get tiger tail, tiger claw ? ” asked 
others, curiously touching the articles named. 

“ I killed the panther on my way through 
the swamp,” was the prompt reply. 

“ White boy no tell lie ? ” asked the Indians, 
amazed and doubtful. How could this be, — 
without even a rifle ? Could he, a mere boy, 
have fought and killed the king beast of the 
forest with a knife alone ? If so, he must 
be more than mortal. Surely Isakita Immissi, 
the Master of Life, protected him. 

I am not in the habit of lying,” said 
Julian proudly. 

‘‘ Look at him,” said the warriors one to an- 
other, their admiration unbounded ; he kill 
the tiger — kill the great Katsa. ^ White boy 
mighty young brave — look at little Tiger- 
Killer.” 


^ The Creek word properly translated means panther, but the 
speakers employed the English term tiger in vogue among igno- 
rant white hunters of that day. 


In the Camp of the Creeks 205 

The name involuntarily bestowed upon him 
was promptly taken up and repeated, but did 
not give general satisfaction, and the substi- 
tution was at once accepted and applauded 
when Black Hawk said : “ ‘ Little Tiger-Tail ’ 
mighty warrior/^ 

All this was very fine. Julian was well 
pleased at the sensation he created, and 
with his brave title, but felt that he must 
proceed with his business. He again in- 
formed them that he came on a mission from 
whites, and asked to be brought before the 
chief. 

Pretty Crow chief — me,^^ said the miko 
promptly. 

Then let us go into a tent and talk,’' pro- 
posed the boy, with all the dignity of an 
ambassador. 

Pretty Crow led the way to the council 
lodge, followed by Black Hawk, the other 
chief warriors, several old men councilors 
and the medicine-man. As soon as all were 
seated and had tasted the “ black drink,” a 


2o 6 In the Camp of the Creeks 

liquor brewed from the blue flag, with which 
the Creeks always opened their councils, 
Julian stated the proposed terms of peace as 
already outlined. He was listened to respect- 
fully by all, except the priest whose face 
showed amusement, and now and then posi- 
tive derision. An animated discussion in the 
Creek language followed the boy’s speech, and 
while this was in progress the medicine-man, 
who sat nearest him, leaned forward and 
asked in startlingly correct English : 

Why have you dressed yourself in this 
way ? ” 

“ To show my respect for the Indians and 
their customs.” 

^‘How did you get here? You did not 
wade in, your clothes are dry.” 

“ I found a way,” answered Julian, uneasily, 
convinced that the Indian priest, after con- 
necting him with the vanished canoe, sus- 
pected the whole imposture. 

He was questioned no further. After one 
more keen glance, the medicine-man turned 


In the Camp of the Creeks 207 

from him and entered into the discussion 
which now soon reached a conclusion. 

“No agree, announced Pretty Crow to the 
boy ambassador. 

“ Think well before you refuse our offer,” 
replied Julian, beginning to tremble in earnest, 
but bravely attempting to argue the matter. 
The only result of his effort was a repetition 
of the laconic “no agree.” 

“ Then I will return and report your deci- 
sion,” said the boy in a shaken voice, but 
rising with dignity and uplifting the flag of 
truce. 

No go,” said Pretty Crow. “ 

Tail stay. No let go.” 


Little Tiger- 


CHAPTER XV 


CHITTA-MIKO, TKE MEDICINE-MAN 

“ But I came with a flag of truce/ ^ stam- 
mered Julian. You donT mean to say you 
won't respect it? ” 

A great fear fell upon the boy when he saw 
that his engaging plan, in the success of which 
he had fondly confided, was a failure. In- 
stead of saving his friends, he had done no 
more than accomplish his own ruin. Maggie 
would be forced to take an Indian husband, 
and Dan and he must die together. Julian 
drew a long shuddering breath and a sob rose 
in his throat. And yet, after a few moments 
he was conscious of a certain sense of relief : 
at any rate he had made the effort, he had 
not run away and left his friends to their 
cruel fate. He had done what he could and 
his responsibility was ended ; the future was 
in the hands of Providence. 


208 


In the Camp of the Creeks 209 

'' Flag no fool Injun,” answered Pretty 
Crow, with a grim smile. 

From that moment Julian gave up all hope 
of persuasion. It was clear to him that 
Chitta-Miko, the quick-witted medicine-man, 
had guessed the imposture and communicated 
his suspicions to the others. The despairing 
boy did not dream that the very imposture 
itself, instead of exciting the Indians against 
him, increased their admiration for him. The 
resource, the wit, the courage which he had 
displayed were qualities certain to appeal to 
their imagination and command their respect. 
Already captivated by the boy^s winsome 
manner, his graceful and remarkable feats 
just witnessed, already regarding his trophies 
of the panther fight with envy and honoring 
him as the greatest known warrior for his 
years, their approval was now so pronounced 
that it could not fail to influence their beha- 
vior toward him. The suggestion being made 
by the medicine-man, it became at once the 
universal desire to possess the talents of this 


210 


In the Camp of the Creeks 

wonderful boy by winning his confidence and 
persuading him to become a faithful member 
of the tribe. Of course he could not be ex- 
pected to entertain the prospect cheerfully, 
but he would be likely to prefer it to death, 
and could he be successfully carried off to the 
wilderness of lower Florida, to the land of the 
still powerful Seminoles, the cousins of the 
Creeks, he would in time become resigned and 
loyal, being still so young ; and one of his 
daring character would undoubtedly find sat- 
isfaction in, as well as do honor to, the posi- 
tion of chieftain which would inevitably be 
his destiny. 

No let go,’^ repeated Pretty Crow with a 
kindly manner, but no hurt Little Tiger- 
Tail. Bold Warrior burn. Little Tiger-Tail 
no burn. Injun heap good friend to pretty 
boy warrior. Take him Seminole land, make 
him big chief 

When the council had broken up, Chitta- 
Miko, whose name literally meant King- 
Snake (the rattler), took the boy aside and 


211 


In the Camp of the Creeks 

explained to him in plain English that the 
Indians were pleased with him and meant to 
adopt him; he should live, but his friend 
must die. 

“ When is he to die? asked Julian, doubt- 
ful what to say as to the future proposed for 
him. 

Chitta-Miko replied that the festival would 
not end till midnight of the morrow ; and 
that on the next morning Bold Warrior^s life 
would be sacrificed. 

If they want me to live with them and be 
one of them, the Indians ought to give me 
the life of my friend,’^ said Julian, craftily. 

If they will. 111 think about it/’ 

Chitta-Miko seemed no little amused at this, 
and having reminded Little Tiger-Tail that he 
was himself a prisoner and in no position to 
dictate terms, he conducted the unhappy boy 
back to the playground. 

Though a prisoner, Julian soon found that 
great liberty was to be allowed him. He 
knew that to venture beyond the limits of the 


212 


In the Camp of the Creeks 

camp was out of the question, and would 
result in instant arrest, but within those limits 
he was permitted to walk about freely, and he 
looked on at all the athletic sports and games 
indulged in by the Indians during the con- 
tinuance of their festival. Indeed he played 
a prominent part, his dancing and acrobatic 
feats being frequently called for. The Indians 
never tired of his performances, and treated 
him in the friendliest manner. Everywhere 
he was received with smiles. In the presence 
of the whole camp. Pretty Crow once put an 
eagle’s feather in his hair, and told him that 
he would become a great chief at some future 
day in the Seminole land. 

To speak with Dan alone was the only cov- 
eted privilege that was denied him. It was 
clearly the universal desire to oblige him in 
every way consistent with prudence, and his 
request to be allowed to visit Maggie was 
readily granted. He found her in the lodge 
of her elderly guardians, and after they had 
kissed each other, and Maggie had shed a few 



DAN IN THE CONDEMNED PRISONER’S TENT. 




In the Camp of the Creeks 213 

half-angry tears, they sat together for an hour 
discussing the situation in whispers, while the 
Sparrow-hawk and Whippoorwill sat in the 
doorway talking in their own tongue. Nor 
was this the only place of meeting open to 
them, for, as has been shown, Maggie was 
allowed to walk about the camp under the 
watchful eyes of the two old squaws. 

But Julian was allowed to speak with Dan 
only in the presence of Chitta-Miko, whose 
knowledge of English prevented not only the 
discussion of plans for escape but even a full 
recital of the boy’s adventures. Dan was 
found tied in a sitting posture, a relief from 
the prostrate position occupied at night, and 
looked pale and dejected. There were tears 
in the boy’s eyes as he threw himself down 
at the side of his friend and tenderly grasped 
his hand. 

'‘To please the boy — Little Tiger-Tail, we 
call him ” — said Chitta-Miko, as they entered 
the prisoner’s tent, " the chiefs let him come 
to see his friend.” 


214 Iri Camp of the Creeks 


“ Oh, Dan, I tried so hard, but everything 
seems to go wrong/' groaned Julian. 

‘‘ I know you done all you could, Julian. 
Never mind, honey," the young man an- 
swered. 

Dan saw that the boy hesitated and asked 
no questions. Particulars might involve the 
mention of what ought to be kept secret. 
Both were thinking of the precious canoe 
which Dan suspected was still hidden. Julian 
little dreamed that the Indians were thinking 
of it also, and had sent a party to search for 
it along the island shore. Fearing that he 
might refuse to reveal its hiding-place, they 
had not questioned him, wishing to avoid 
harshness in the case of one whose good-will 
they desired to win. 

“ But you've got till day after to-morrow 
morning to live," ventured Julian, ‘‘and 
may be " 

Here Dan prudently interrupted him to 
inquire as to the conditions of Maggie's cap- 
tivity, and no further reference was made to 


In the Camp of the Creeks 215 

the hoped for arrival of the militia, or other 
means for their escape. Julian spoke of the 
desire of the tribe to adopt him, and Dan at 
once said it was “ a good thing.^^ Chitta- 
Miko was surprised at their seeming resigna- 
tion. He had expected them to whisper their 
plans and hopes in his presence, compelling 
him to separate them. Thus he was taken a 
little off his guard. His attention being at- 
tracted to some sound outside, he once took 
three steps forward and thrust his head 
through the door of the tent. Less than a 
quarter of a minute had passed when he re- 
turned to his place, but during that time Dan 
moved his mouth toward the boy’s ear and 
whispered : 

“ If the militia don’t come in time, you bet- 
ter try Hi-lo-lo, Black Hawk’s squaw. She’s 
jealous o’ Maggie and maybe ” 

Dan suddenly drew back and spoke 
aloud of something else, seeing Chitta-Miko 
turning to retrace his steps. Julian would 
have been glad to hear more, but Dan had 


2i 6 In the Camp of the Creeks 

given him a suggestion and was satis- 
fied. 

I hate to think of those poor live turkeys 
we left tied on the little island/' said Julian 
aloud. “ I reckon they’ll die soon.” 

They’re out o’ their misery long ago,” said 
Dan. “ The varmints et ’em all up but bones 
and feathers the first night.” 

Shortly afterward the boy was told that his 
visit must come to an end, and as he turned to 
leave his friend the expression of his eye was 
a promise that he would not be idle. The 
visit was made at noon. Two hours later the 
festivities were interrupted by a storm of rain 
and thunder. Julian had been watching 
numerous contestants as they threw a wooden 
ball at a mark near the summit of a pole some 
fifty feet high, meanwhile on the lookout for 
Maggie, with whom he wished to confer about 
Hi-lo-lo, when the storm burst upon the camp 
and all hands scattered in search of shelter. 
In the rush Julian felt some one grasp his 
hand, and turning, saw Chitta-Miko. A few 


In the Camp of the Creeks 217 

moments later the two took refuge in the 
medicine-man’s own tent. 

There was nothing fierce in the expression of 
the Indian priest’s face ; except for a curious 
burning intensity in the stare of his eyes, he 
might have been called a mild faced man. But 
Julian was none the less conscious of an in- 
fiuence that made him uneasy. Chitta-Miko 
possibly united the arts of the Indian juggler, 
snake charmer and priest with that of the 
hypnotist, and it may have been partly his 
magnetic infiuence that affected the boy. 
Julian learned afterward that the medicine- 
man of the Creeks had been taught to read 
and speak English by the missionaries in his 
youth, an accomplishment which enabled him 
to add largely to the learning derived from 
native sources. He had now no designs on 
the boy, to whom he had taken a fancy, fur- 
ther than to win his confidence and promote 
in every possible way the plan proposed in the 
council house. 

On entering the lodge in which Chitta-Miko 


2i 8 In the Camp of the Creeks 

dwelt alone, for the Creek priests were always 
bachelors, Julian's feeling of uneasiness was 
not lessened at sight of a rattlesnake coiled 
up in a corner and a wise-looking owl 
squatting on the top of a stake. He doubted 
not that the fangs of the former had been re- 
moved, but shuddered to look upon it none 
the less. The numerous dried herbs and 
gourds hanging around the central pole were 
more reassuring, but who could tell what might 
be contained in the pots and earthen vessels, 
and above all in the mysterious medicine bag ? 
Besides, the lightning flaring through the tent 
cloth every few moments and the peals of 
thunder that seemed to crack the very earth, 
were decidedly unnerving. As he stared about 
him curiously, Julian felt that he would 
like to ask many questions, but dared not 
do so. 

Apparently divining the boy’s thoughts, 
Chitta-Miko introduced the subject himself, 
saying much to interest his guest without re- 
vealing the secrets of his calling. He began 


In the Camp of the Creeks 219 

by saying that in some tribes it was believed 
that the lightning was a great, terrible serpent 
and the thunder was its hissing. He said he 
had heard of a tribe that believed the earth 
itself to be a great living creature flying 
around the sun, that the rivers and streams 
were its blood vessels and that it turned itself 
first one side and then the other to the sun in 
order to keep itself warm, thus causing day 
and night. 

And did they think the trees and grass 
were the great creature’s hair, and the men 
and animals its fleas? ’’asked Julian, capti- 
vated by this tremendous idea. 

Chitta-Miko said he did not know, but he 
smiled and seemed pleased. As the storm 
was subsiding and a bit of the brilliant bow of 
promise was seen through the opened door, he 
went on to say that some Indians thought 
that the Great Spirit restrains the rain-spirits 
from drowning the world by tying them with 
the rainbow. 

“ Why, isn’t that strange ! ” cried the boy. 


220 


In the Camp of the Creeks 

“ The rainbow was the promise to Noah that 
there would never be another flood/’ 

“ I remember it in the sacred Book the 
missionaries gave me,” said Chitta-Miko. “ It 
was different a little, but not new. All the 
Indian tribes have an old tradition of such a 
flood, and of the creation of the land from 
the water in the beginning. It was all water 
before there was land. Some tribes say the 
land was made by the Manitou, the Great 
Good Spirit. The Creeks of old said it was 
made by Isakita Immissi, the Master of Life, 
but the Indians of the North said it was made 
by Michabo, the Giant Rabbit.” 

A rabbit I ” 

The curious creation legend of the Algon- 
quin tribes was then related at Julian’s re- 
quest, and after many questions bearing upon 
it had been asked and patiently answered, the 
boy inquired of Chitta-Miko where the happy 
hunting-ground of the red men was supposed 
to be. The reply was that some thought it 
was beyond a far, unknown river, others, that 


221 


In the Camp of the Creeks 

it was in the sun, and the milky-way was the 
path by which to reach it. Some said the 
villages of the dead were in the west where 
the sun goes at night, others thought it was at 
the sunrise. The Creeks of old said it was 
inside the earth, whence they originally came. 
The legend runs, “ At a certain time the Earth 
opened in the west, where its mouth is. The 
Earth opened and the Cussitaws (ancient 
Creeks) came out of its mouth and settled 
near by.^’ 

Where do you think it is ? '' asked Julian. 

Where it pleases the Master of Life to have 
it, for those who have lived well are taken 
under his care after death. It may be that 
when the great teacher comes to the Indians 
again he will tell them more about it.” 

On inquiring who this great teacher ” was, 
Julian learned that the ancient traditions of 
all Indian tribes, so far as Chitta-Miko knew, 
with remarkable similarity tell of the coming 
among them in the dim past of a divine man 
who, after teaching them the arts of life and 


222 


In the Camp of the Creeks 

the rites of religion, the forms of their gov- 
ernment and the medicinal powers of plants, 
left them in some mysterious way, usually de- 
scribed as a miraculous rising into the sky, 
but giving them his promise to return again 
at some future time when he would again be 
their instructor and guide. 

While listening to this solemn recital, the 
boy was reminded of the sacred story of the 
miraculous birth of the Teacher of men at 
Bethlehem, and of the ascent to Heaven when 
the appointed work was done, leaving behind 
the promise of a second coming in the ful- 
ness of time. What could this wonderful 
similarity of so many different traditions 
mean but that truth had been given to the 
red men also in the form best adapted to their 
nature and needs ? 

Before he quitted the lodge of the medicine 
man that afternoon, Julian asked one more 
question, namely, did the Creeks really be- 
lieve they were the progeny of the animals 
from which they claimed descent and by the 


In the Camp of the Creeks 223 

totemic badges of which they were distin- 
guished ? The answer was that the wiser ones 
did not. One of the most famous clans of 
other times was that of the Hutalgalgi or 
Wind, and manifestly the wind could not be 
the forefather of a tribe. It must be simply 
that the several clans were originally pro- 
tected or aided in some mysterious way by 
the animal whose name was therefore adopted 
in memorial. According to Chitta-Miko, 
there had always been in the tribe a venera- 
tion of certain animals, the supposed tempo- 
rary earthly bodies of immortal spirits. Even 
yet the alligator was considered sacred and 
was never killed, the Halpadalgi, or alligator 
tribe, for this reason, enjoying a peculiar dis- 
tinction. 


CHAPTER XVI 


CAPTORS QUARREL AND CAPTIVES SCHEME 

After nightfall Julian found himself more 
closely watched, and gave up as useless a half- 
formed plan for liberating Dan. The boy 
spent the night in a brush tent in the com- 
pany of several Indian youths. His limbs 
were left sufficiently free for comfort, but he 
was none the less securely bound by a rope to 
one of his companions. 

On the next day, the last of the festival, the 
fact that Pretty Crow and Black Hawk had 
quarreled became known and furnished a 
greater sensation than the festival itself. Each 
was determined to possess the fair young 
Water Lily, and nobody knew how the trouble 
would end, for the two chiefs were of almost 
equal power and influence. Pretty Crow was 
older and a more experienced warrior, but 
Black Hawk, as the son of the sacred alliga- 

224 


In the Camp of the Creeks 225 

tor/’ was by birth at least his superior, and 
should the band divide it might be that 'the 
majority would feel compelled to flock to the 
latter’s standard. 

The situation was therefore grave. The old 
men shook their heads ominously, and ere 
long the idea was suggested and grew in favor 
of putting an end to the quarrel by removing 
the apple of discord. Let the Water Lily 
die by the same Are that was to be kindled 
around the feet of Bold Warrior. This would 
promptly dispose of the difflculty, and at the 
same time agree with time-honored precedent, 
for it was the original custom of the Creeks to 
kill all their grown-up prisoners, women as 
well as men, sparing only children. 

But at first nobody dared make such a pro- 
posal to either of the two chiefs. In the early 
morning each repeated his visit to the cap- 
tive’s tent. Pretty Crow gorgeously arrayed in 
all his finery as before, and Black Hawk 
again noticeable for the neatness of his more 
simple attire and the manly earnestness of his 


226 In the Camp of the Creeks 

deportment. Having been convinced of the 
gravity of the situation by Julian, who had 
kept both eyes and ears open, Maggie received 
them more graciously than on the first occa- 
sion, although she contrived to postpone her 
decision, and kept both her august lovers in 
suspense. Later the two chiefs met in the 
open space and defied each other, afterward 
going off to sulk and meditate civil strife, re- 
gardless of the necessity of combining their 
strength in the face of a common foe. 

At the suggestion of Chitta-Miko, a council 
was called at noon, and the old advisers, sup- 
ported by the minor chiefs, took courage and 
argued the question in the presence of the two 
furious chieftains themselves. Nothing but 
the common peril hanging over all in the 
heart of an enemy’s country could have in- 
duced Pretty Crow and Black Hawk to per- 
mit such interference in their private affairs. 
As it was, they were at no pains to conceal 
their haughty displeasure, and stormed and 
threatened in masterful style. Nevertheless 


In the Camp of the Creeks 227 

the proposal to settle the question by the girPs 
death was made in due course, and was in- 
stantly rejected by both. Chitta-Miko also 
spoke earnestly against the proposal. The 
more enlightened medicine-man was opposed 
to the slaughter of helpless prisoners in any 
case, and had already advised, though to no 
purpose, that Dan himself be spared and held 
for the sake of exchange in case a chief war- 
rior of the tribe should be taken alive by the 
whites. 

In place of the stern solution of the prob- 
lem advised by the majority of the council, 
Chitta-Miko at last made bold to suggest that 
the girl’s own preference be allowed to settle 
the vexed question : Let the Water Lily 
choose between them, and let the two mighti- 
est of chiefs agree to abide her choice. A 
proposal so novel and so contrary to Indian 
customs and habits of thought would have 
been received with general derision had not 
the two warring chieftains, to the astonish- 
ment of every one, agreed to it, pronouncing 


228 In the Camp of the Creeks 

it a far better solution than the sacrifice of the 
maid. Possibly they seized upon it as a pre- 
text for postponing their unwise quarrel until 
the safety of the Seminole land was reached, 
though it may be that each felt confident that 
he would be preferred. The vainglorious 
Pretty Crow could not conceive of a woman 
of any color preferring Black Hawk’s lodge 
to the greater glory of his own, he being the 
acknowledged older and wiser head, and the 
chief commander of the band. Black Hawk, 
on the other hand, had reason to believe that 
Maggie looked with less repugnance upon his 
suit. 

As soon as the council broke up, the quick- 
witted Chitta-Miko sought Julian, and bade 
him go secretly to Maggie and warn her that 
the longer she kept the two chiefs in doubt as 
to her choice, the better would be her chance 
of avoiding a marriage with either. The boy 
made haste to comply, wondering at Chitta- 
Miko’s good-will, for it was not at once plain 
to him that the medicine-man’s anxiety was not 


In the Camp of the Creeks 229 

to secure Maggie's welfare, but to delay the is- 
sue of a dangerous quarrel until the Seminole 
land was reached. Maggie, however, needed 
no such warning. Setting aside the question 
of gaining time for possible escape or rescue, 
she felt that indefinite delay was the most 
desirable of all things. And so, when the 
rival chiefs again visited her, with a craft 
beyond her years, she contrived not to offend 
either and to allow each to hope that, although 
she might court delay, her final choice would 
be in his favor. 

So matters stood, when, on the afternoon of 
the last day of the festival. Black Hawk's 
wife, Hi-lo-lo, appeared at the tent of the 
Sparrow-hawk and Whippoorwill and re- 
quested a private interview with the captive 
girl. Sho-ko-chee and Chip-e-lop-law, though 
the victims of an intense curiosity, dared not 
refuse the request of a chief 's wife, and after 
introducing Hi-lo-lo into Maggie’s presence, 
they reluctantly retired. The young squaw 
was dressed in a gay calico gown and 


230 In the Camp of the Creeks 

wore new, beautifully embroidered moc- 
casins. Her chief ornaments were shell 
bracelets and earrings, the latter two inches 
long. Her hair was carefully braided in two 
long plaits, and the skin of her scalp at the 
partings was painted a bright red. She was 
undeniably good-looking, as Indian beauty 
goes, and Maggie wondered the more at Black 
Hawk’s folly. 

Seating herself on a skin, the young squaw 
announced that she was the wife of the great 
chief. Black Hawk, and added : “ Me come 

look at white gal.” 

And now you see me, I reckon you wonder 
why they’re makin’ all this fuss about me,” 
remarked Maggie with crafty simplicity, 
smiling over-much and doing her best to look 
silly. 

“ Black Hawk fool,” declared Hi-lo-lo with 
disdain, after a long survey. Water Lily no 
good to see. Pale — sickly — like sick chicken 
— like foolish child.” 

'' I’d like to box her ears,” thought Maggie, 


In the Camp of the Creeks 231 

inwardly furious, but outwardly still smiling. 

Why, yes, everybody knows I^m not good 
lookinV^ she said aloud. “ I’m the ugliest 
girl in Baker County. Why I’ve got red 
hair,” she added, tossing her fine auburn 
ringlets. 

Hi-lo-lo listened in astonishment. Though 
not quite imposed on by this amazing lack of 
feminine vanity, she became convinced that 
the captive white girl who had turned the 
heads of two great chiefs was no better than 
a silly child. 

Water Lily go to Pretty Crow’s lodge ? ” 
she suddenly asked with a confidential, per- 
suasive air. Pretty Crow big warrior, big 
chief — plenty money buy cows.” 

Why no, I rather think not,” replied 
Maggie, archly. “ You mustn’t tell, but be- 
tween you and me, if I’ve got to take anybody 
I think I’ll take Black Hawk. He’s a heap 
the best lookin’. Don’t you think so? And 
I believe he’d treat me better than that con- 
ceited old Pretty Crow would. Don’t he treat 


232 In the Camp of the Creeks 

you well? And, besides, Black Hawk’s got 
only one wife and Pretty Crow’s got three, so 
they tell me. I’d rather be second choice 
than fourth, wouldn’t you? ” 

Hi-lo-lo was now furious beyond words. 
Her eyes shot darts of fire and her long nailed 
fingers moved threateningly. “ Indian burn 
Water Lily to-mor’ ! ” she hissed. 

No, they don’t aim to now,” the girl re- 
plied calmly, although she longed to laugh 
outright. They’re goin’ to let me choose be- 
tween Pretty Crow and Black Hawk, so Little 
Tiger-Tail says. I don’t hanker after neither, 
but if it must be one or t’other. I’ll take the son 
of the alligator every time. But,” she added 
petulantly, I wish to gracious both of ’em 
would quit pesterin’ me, they make me plumb 
sick. I wish they’d turn Dan loose and let him 
take me home. That’s what I’m after. If 
Black Hawk had a wife who set store by him 
she’d help me to git away, too ! ” 

The last was said with particular emphasis, 
the girl looking boldly into the young squaw’s 


In the Camp of the Creeks 233 

% 

eyes. Hi-lo-lo^s anger rapidly cooled, as she 
comprehended that Maggie’s real desire was 
not to “ take ” Black Hawk but to escape. 

“ Me help you go maybe,” she suddenly 
leaned forward and whispered. ‘‘ Bold War- 
rior no go, but Water Lily, yes, may be — if go 
without.” 

“ I’ll go anyway you can fix it,” said Mag- 
gie eagerly. 

But Hi-lo-lo was not ready with a plan, and 
presently departed without proposing one. 
Outside the door of the tent she remarked to 
the cringing Sparrow-hawk and Whippoorwill 
in the Creek tongue : You don’t need to 

watch that white girl closely. She’s as silly 
as a sheep. She hasn’t the sense to run away 
if there’s a chance.” 

Always on the lookout, Julian did not fail 
to know of Hi-lo-lo’s visit, and soon after con- 
trived to speak with Maggie. Both felt en- 
couraged and hopeful for the time, but as the 
afternoon wore away, the boy became down- 
cast and restless. Through the aid of Hi-lo-lo, 


234 In the Camp of the Creeks 

Maggie might escape that night or the follow- 
ing, and he might possibly contrive to accom- 
pany her, but Julian saw that there was little 
or no chance for Dan in any case, and that he 
must make an effort to save him before it was 
too late. It must be done that night or never, 
for the following morning was appointed for 
his death, and a second postponement was not 
likely. 

While apparently looking on with interest 
at the continuing festivities, the boy racked 
his brain for some promising plan. Having 
at length decided on a course of action, he 
contrived to scribble a few lines on his hand- 
kerchief with a bit of charcoal, sharpened 
to a fine point with his knife. This task was 
accomplished without attracting notice in the 
only way possible, that is, by calling on Mag- 
gie a second time, and sitting down to the 
work within the tent while the inattentive 
Sho-ko-chee and Chip-e-lop-law sat talking 
just outside the door. Like every one else, 
the two old squaws looked with favor on 


In the Camp of the Creeks 235 

Little Tiger-Tail, and were disposed to allow 
him much freedom of intercourse with Maggie, 
particularly after he had delighted them with 
the gift of a glistening pearl button apiece, 
cut from his shirt. 

His important communication once written, 
and the handkerchief folded up and put out 
of sight, Julian sought Pretty Crow and 
begged permission to visit Dan a second time. 
At first his request was refused, but so earnest, 
simple and artless was his manner, and such 
was the good feeling he had excited, that in 
the end he gained his point. He was sent to 
the condemned prisoner’s tent in the company 
of an Indian warrior who had a fair knowl- 
edge of English, and the two were permitted 
to enter without delay. For a quarter of an 
hour, Dan and Julian conversed in a perfectly 
innocent manner about matters of interest in 
the camp, in no way exciting the suspicion of 
the attendant that they were plotting. At 
the outset the boy planted himself midway 
between Dan, who was seated tied to the cen- 


236 In the Camp of the Creeks 

tral pole of the tent, and the Indian who 
stood near the doorway. The latter little 
dreamed that in the course of the innocent 
conversation the boy unrolled his handker- 
chief and held it some time against his breast 
in full view of the prisoner, who read twice 
over : 

“ Hi-lo-lo will help free Maggie and me. I 
will loosen you to-night. Run straight across 
island. At edge of swamp turn to right to 
big fallen pine. Canoe is tied to outer end, 
in the sedge. Go straight for militia. Never 
mind us.” 

A long, steady stare and a slight inclination 
of his head were Dan’s signs to indicate that 
he approved and would act on the plan if the 
opportunity came. As Julian turned obedi- 
ently to quit the tent a few minutes later, the 
handkerchief having been crumpled together 
and thrust out of sight in his jacket pocket, it 
seemed to the attendant Indian that there was 
something singularly cheerful in the atmos- 
phere of the condemned man and his sor- 


In the Camp of the Creeks 237 

rowing friend. He set this down to the in- 
fluence of that noble, intrepid spirit of stoicism 
in the presence of danger and misfortune 
which it was the high aim of every warrior 
to cultivate. 


CHAPTER XVII 
dan's escape 

After dark Julian was disheartened to find 
that it would be more difficult for the con- 
demned prisoner to escape on this last night 
than at any previous time. Not only was he 
bound as usual on his back, but a watch was 
set. Throughout the night a single sentinel 
was to pace slowly around the tent until re- 
lieved by a successor. To enter unseen and 
cut Dan's bonds now seemed impossible, and 
Julian at first gave up to despair. 

Soon, however, he saw cause for hope. Dan's 
tent faced the open space where the crowd col- 
lected at night, and Julian observed that the 
sentinel paced rapidly round the back and 
slowly round the front, in the latter case 
looking eagerly toward the howling dancers. 
There was thus a bare chance that the boy 
could reach the tent from the back and crawl 


238 


In the Camp of the Creeks 239 

beneath the uplifted wall while the guard 
paced slowly round the front ; but this would 
have to be done without attracting notice, and 
before he himself was led away to his own 
tent. 

He hesitated a long while before venturing 
to make the attempt. It was perhaps ten 
o’clock in the evening, and the excitement 
among the Indians crowding the open space 
was at its height when, knowing he had little 
more time to spare, the boy resolved to wait 
no longer. Stepping backward, without at- 
tracting attention from the company of those 
absorbed spectators with whom he had been 
told to stay, he slipped quietly through the 
neighboring groups and, darting around the 
nearest tent, stood on the watch until the sen- 
tinel had passed hurriedly round to the front 
of that one in which the prisoner lay. Then 
the boy ran forward, dropped on his knees, 
lifted the rear wall of Dan’s cloth prison, and 
crawled beneath it. 

Once under cover, he kept still for a few 


240 In the Camp of the Creeks 

moments, almost holding his breath until 
certain that his movements had attracted no 
attention. No outcry followed and the howl- 
ing went on as before. He then groped for- 
ward whispering, “ Dan ! ” The answering 
whisper, All right, came promptly, and in 
a moment Julian’s outstretched hands touched 
the prostrate figure. No time was then lost in 
opening his pocket knife, passing his hands 
over Dan’s arms and legs and cutting every 
cord that bound him. 

“ Don’t move until everything is quiet in, 
the camp,” was the boy’s advice, whispered in 
the ear of his prostrate friend. “ You’ll be 
seen and caught if you try it before. Better 
take the chances of their not finding out that 
the strings are cut. If you lie still and keep 
the pole across your breast, they won’t know 
the difference even if they look in at the door 
with a light.” 

I reckon you’re right, Julian, honey,” was 
the response to this. “ But — but are you sure 
the Injun gal’ll help you and Maggie ” 


In the Camp of the Creeks 241 

/ 

“ Certain. Can’t stop to tell you about it,” 
replied the boy, with an assumption of greater 
confidence than he really felt. 

Then, with a whispered Good-bye,” he was 
gone, or so Dan thought. But as Julian was 
about to raise the back curtain, he stopped 
short, recollecting the pacing sentinel. The 
beat of the drums, the swish-swish of the 
gourd rattles, and the cries of the warriors 
drowned all lesser sounds, and listen as he 
might, Julian saw that it would be impossible 
to locate the sentinel. Hesitating a few mo- 
ments, he threw himself on the ground and 
lay there, lifting the curtain and holding it 
some two inches high until he had seen the 
sentinel’s moccasins appear, hurry past and 
disappear round the corner. Then he crawled 
out, leaped to his feet, darted round the neigh- 
boring tent, entered the crowd and stood again 
beside those supposed to keep an eye on him, 
— all before his absence had been noticed. 

It was done — and so far all was well. Julian 
was enraptured. It seemed too good to be 


242 In the Camp of the Creeks 

true. An hour later the boy retired to rest 
with his guardians, and for a long while lay 
wide awake, listening and dreading the com- 
motion in the camp likely to follow the dis- 
covery of the prisoner's escape. After mid- 
night all was still, and the time dragged 
wearily on until the boy began to fear that 
long since the sentinel had discovered that 
Dan's bonds were cut. When at length he 
fell asleep it was only to dream that Dan was 
being chased across the island by his enemies, 
and finally to awake and learn that this was 
indeed true. 

It was past three o'clock in the morning 
when Dan at last resolved to wait no longer ; 
but before that hour he had risen often for a 
few minutes at a time in order to exercise his 
cramped limbs and thus prepare for flight, 
afterward lying down and replacing the pole 
across his breast. After the moon-worshipers 
dispersed at midnight and all became quiet, 
Dan could distinctly hear the footsteps of the 
passing sentinel and was never taken off his 


In the Camp of the Creeks 243 

/ 

guard when the latter occasionally stopped at 
the door, drew the curtains aside and looked 
in. Twice after this happened he noted that 
the footsteps of the sentinel sounded gradu- 
ally more faint until they were no longer 
heard, and that after a few minutes they 
seemed to be replaced by other steps that were 
not quite the same. Thus he was led to be- 
lieve that one sentinel had gone to rouse 
another who was to succeed him. 

It was after he noticed this fading into 
silence of the guard’s footsteps for the second 
time that Dan rose softly, lifted the back cur- 
tain of the tent, and seeing no sign of a liv- 
ing creature, crawled out, and crept, bent 
double, across the open spaces. Once in the 
cover of the brush, he took his bearings and 
hurried toward the north end of the island. 

He had gone little more than a quarter of a 
mile when he heard a shout of alarm, fol- 
lowed by the sounds of that sudden commo- 
tion in the camp which awakened Julian from 
the dream to the reality. Shortly afterward 


244 III tlic Camp of the Creeks 

he heard the loud baying of several hounds, 
and then he ran for his life. The game of 
hide and seek on the island was now to be 
played in earnest. The outlawed dogs, which 
were kept in chains during the festival, had 
been let loose and started upon the track of 
the fugitive. 

As he neared the northern limits of the 
island, panting and staring wildly into the 
gloom ahead, Dan well knew that if he 
missed the place described by Julian he was 
lost. There would be no time to look about 
him and consider ; at the best the hounds 
would be almost upon him the moment he 
leaped into the canoe. Every time their long, 
lingering howls sounded on the still night air 
they seemed startlingly nearer than before. 

At length the ground went downward under 
his flying feet and he saw the inky gloom of 
the swamp depths before him. Turning along 
the shore to the right some two hundred 
yards, he promptly located the big fallen pine 
— for the moon still shone — and pushed his 


In the Camp of the Creeks 245 

way out upon it until he stood among the dead 
outstretching branches decorated here and 
there with bunches of brown needles. Peer- 
ing forward, he saw plenty of sedge and even 
the depression or path made by the hidden 
canoe, but the canoe itself was gone. 

Dan halted irresolute, wondering if he had 
missed the right fallen tree. A moment’s 
thought convinced him that this was not 
likely, for Julian’s directions had been plain 
enough. What if the Indians had found the 
canoe and hidden it in another place? He 
thought this likely and that therefore it 
would be folly to attempt to find it under the 
present circumstances. Dan concluded that 
the only thing to be done was to cross with 
all speed to the western side of the island, 
whence it was possible to reach the outer 
world through some four miles of jungle cov- 
ered with shallow water. The chances of 
successful escape were now slender enough, 
but something must be done. Pie might at 
least reach and disappear in the jungle before 


246 In the Camp of the Creeks 

the Indians overtook him. As for the dogs, 
he must take the chances of an inevitable 
fight with them, armed only with a club or 
lightwood knot ; for after his capture he had 
been completely disarmed, even his pocket- 
knife being taken from him. 

The prospect of so unequal a struggle with 
the pack of hounds caused the fugitive to re- 
pent of having run away from, the camp 
empty handed. He regretted that he had not 
attempted to leap upon the sentinel from be- 
hind, disable him and take his weapons. In 
the midst of these vain regrets he was startled 
by the sound of loud, shrill howls, indicating 
that the dogs were now not more than three 
hundred yards away. He saw that he must 
act at once. To cross the whole width of the 
island, beating the hounds off as he went, was 
to be overtaken by the Indians without fail, 
and Dan felt that to place himself beyond 
reach of the dogs and bide his time was the 
utmost he could now hope to do. 

So without further hesitation he leaped into 


f In the Camp of the Creeks 247 

the sedge, sinking above his knees in water. 
He made his way straight out into the sub- 
merged swamp, at first wading, then swim- 
ming, and always struggling with difficulty 
against crowding, unseen obstructions. His 
noisy splashing was distinctly heard by the 
dogs as they presently leaped upon the fallen 
pine and halted a moment, puzzled, before 
they opened a steady baying with snuffing 
nostrils pointed toward the dark depths be- 
fore them. But by the time the foremost of 
their masters arrived on the scene the still- 
ness of the dark swamp was no longer broken 
by even the faintest sound. 

The warriors who came leaping down the 
slope on the track of the dogs understood the 
situation at once and dispersed themselves 
along the borders of the swamp to listen and 
watch while waiting for daylight. In half an 
hour the gray light of dawn came filtering 
down through the tree-tops and the Creek 
warriors were prompt to bestir themselves. 
As Dan suspected, they had found the canoe 


2^8 In the Camp of the Creeks 

and hidden it in another suitable spot within 
a few hundred yards, and broad daylight had 
no sooner penetrated the swamp than they 
brought it forth. Three warriors armed to 
the teeth got afloat and, taking one of the 
hounds with them, paddled boldly into the 
swamp, confldent of flnding and recapturing 
their helpless, unarmed enemy. 

But although hours were consumed in the 
search, although they penetrated the swamp 
for more than a mile and beat all the inter- 
vening bush most carefully, they were unsuc- 
cessful. Sometimes, judging from the behavior 
of the hound, they felt confldent that the fugi- 
tive was near, but always failed to locate him. 
Not a trace of him was to be found. The 
trail ended in the branches of the fallen pine, 
and thence Bold Warrior seemed to have mys- 
teriously vanished into the unseen and un- 
known. Suspecting that he had entered the 
swamp only to issue forth soon afterward at 
a neighboring point, the Creeks scattered 
widely and sought the trail with the help of 



THE INDIANS FAILED TO LOCATE HIM 








t 






' 





r'-. 



» .1 







H 


A' 


A 


•5 


m 


■*i • 




.’rf- 











■i 



I In the Camp of the Creeks 249 

the dogs. In the course of the day the whole 
island shore was patrolled, but without result. 

All day the search was continued with un- 
tiring energy. The fact that the fugitive ran 
straight for the point where Julian was known 
to have left the canoe made it clear that the 
boy, in spite of every obstacle, had contrived 
to communicate with him. It was also more 
than suspected that Little Tiger-Tail had been 
actively concerned in the loosing of the pris- 
oner’s bonds, although how this could be so, 
since he himself had been closely watched 
after nightfall, it seemed impossible to ex- 
plain. None of the warriors or chiefs remain- 
ing at camp questioned or reproached the boy, 
however, and there was no apparent change 
in their friendly attitude toward him. Indeed 
it is more than likely that their respect and 
admiration were increased. 

The day was not ended before Julian dis- 
covered that Chitta-Miko and the chief war- 
riors had disagreed. The medicine-man was 
opposed to the slaughter of prisoners in any 


250 In the Camp of the Creeks 

case, and when at noon it seemed clear that 
Dan had made good his escape, he urged that 
the search be given up and the warriors be 
called in to prepare for an early march on 
the morrow. Chitta-Miko thought they had 
rested long enough in their retreat ; the moon- 
festival being over, they should now go forth 
without delay and continue their march to- 
ward the Seminole land. A long journey and 
perhaps hard fighting were before them, and 
the more time they wasted the better oppor- 
tunity would be offered the whites of the 
neighborhood to bring together a force capa- 
ble of opposing their progress. Besides, it 
was now the first day of the twelfth moon, 
Hi-yote-lock-o (July), and it was necessary to 
reach their future home as soon as possible in 
order to celebrate the great annual eight-day 
festival called the Boos-ke-tau. 

As Julian learned by inquiry, the answer 
of the chiefs to this advice was in substance 
that the band was too strong to be in any real 
danger from the whites, that the observance 


In the Camp of the Creeks 251 

of the great festival in such circumstances as 
the present might be delayed without sin, and 
that therefore nothing should be left undone 
in the search for Bold Warrior, for the people 
had been cheated of their rightful prey. Be- 
sides, the tribe should not go forth at the risk 
of a battle before the “ war physic ” had been 
brewed and the warriors had drunk it in sol- 
emn assembly, and sung their war and charm 
songs. This “ war physic (which was brewed 
from the cassina plant, and supposed to con- 
tain a fragment of the horn of the fabulous 
horned snake and of the bones of a panther) 
was believed to render the Creek warrior ir- 
resistible in battle. It was in vain that Chitta- 
Miko promised to brew the physic at once, 
and suggested that the warriors drink it and 
sing their songs that night and during the 
first three nights after the march was begun. 
The chiefs were not yet ready and could not 
be persuaded to march on the morrow. 

As night drew on, still with no news of 
Dan’s recapture, Julian and Maggie exulted 


252 In the Camp of the Creeks 

in the belief that he must ere this be safe, for 
he of all people was best acquainted with the 
labyrinths of the Chickasawhatchee, and the 
history of the day clearly showed that he had 
found means to leave the island even without 
a canoe. Freed from further anxiety for his 
safety, their thoughts now turned to plans for 
their own escape. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


HI-LO-LO AND MAGGIE 

To all appearances Hi-lo-lo had repented of 
the promise whispered to Maggie on the pre- 
vious afternoon. All through the day a visit 
from her was anxiously expected in the tent 
of the Sparrow-hawk and the Whippoorwill. 
Not only did she fail to make her appearance, 
but she manifestly avoided Julian when he 
twice made attempts to speak with her. The 
hopes of the boy and girl, which had risen 
high after Dan’s apparently successful escape, 
were therefore brought low again as night 
drew on, and they listened with heavy hearts 
to the charm and war songs sung by the war- 
riors that evening. 

Several Indians remained on duty during 
the night opposite that portion of the swamp 
wherein Dan had vanished. Sentinels were 
also posted at various points on the western 

253 


254 the Camp of the Creeks 

side of the island. But most of the warriors 
spent the night in the encampment ; and these, 
to a man, were nothing loath to begin drink- 
ing the war-physic prepared by Chitta-Miko, 
although the date of their departure from 
the swamp was not yet fixed. As a rule 
the liquor was drunk during four successive 
days before a start on the war path was 
made. 

When Maggie lay down for the night be- 
tween old Sho-ko-chee and Chip-e-lop-law, 
the weird songs still grated on her ear. But 
Julian sat with his night companions in the 
open space until a late hour — until the hard- 
iest of the drinkers and singers wearied, and, 
by common consent, broke up the meeting and 
retired to their tents. The boy understood 
nothing of the words of the songs, but sus- 
pected that the singers boasted of achieve- 
ments that were largely imaginary. As for 
the music, he thought it very monotonous and 
tiresome. But in spite of this and his grow- 
ing discouragement he looked on and listened 


In the Camp of the Creeks 255 

with great interest, and even consented to 
taste the not altogether unpalatable ‘‘ physic.’’ 

Although no longer counting on the aid of 
Hi-lo-lo, Julian could as yet form no plan of 
independent action, and he retired to rest in 
the company of his keepers with the prospect 
of an indefinite captivity for Maggie and him- 
self. But as neither was in danger of death, 
and Dan was out of harm’s way, his trouble 
of mind was not so serious as to prevent sleep. 
There was still the hope that the Baker 
County militia, after being reinforced, if they 
did not venture to invade the swamp, would 
at least attack the Indians on their southward 
march and prevent them from carrying their 
captives to the Seminole strongholds in 
Florida. He thought it very strange, how- 
ever, and little to the honor of the local sol- 
diery, that they had now allowed five days to 
pass without striking a blow. 

Julian had not failed to take advantage of 
the comparative freedom allowed him in order 
to lay siege to Hightower’s Joe, who was fre- 


256 In the Camp of the Creeks 

quently to be seen coming and going, and al- 
ways with the most cheerful of smiles. The 
boy made more than one effort to purchase 
the runaway’s aid in behalf of Dan, but 
the results were not encouraging. Al- 
though, with the characteristic good humor 
of the average of his race, the negro glibly 
agreed to do all that was asked, he made no 
move toward the fulfilment of his promises. 
He had no grudge against Dan, Maggie or 
Julian, and would no doubt have preferred to 
see them out of harm’s way, but he was neither 
courageous nor energetic, and feared the anger 
of his red masters, who he knew were not to 
be trifled with. Julian was not slow to see 
that he was wasting time and soon transferred 
his hopes to Hi-lo-lo, only to fall back after 
all on his own cunning and resource to ac- 
complish his end. But he had never let slip 
an opportunity to upbraid Hightower’s Joe for 
his faithlessness, in good round terms, rising 
in his wrath and the strength of his denunci- 
ations as he listened to the negro’s loud, good- 


In the Camp of the Creeks 257 

humored guifaws and renewed promises of aid 
that were to be forgotten in an hour. 

Before the night had passed it was shown 
that, unlike the too ready agreement of the 
negro, the reluctant promise of the young 
Indian squaw was to be kept. It became evi- 
dent that her apparent indifference during the 
day was merely part of a plan to divert sus- 
picion from herself. 

No sooner had the moon disappeared behind 
the forest wall about three o’clock in the 
morning, throwing the encampment in deep 
shadow, than she stealthily emerged from be- 
neath the uplifted curtains of Black Hawk’s 
wigwam and moved warily in and out among 
the neighboring tents. 

A few minutes later she crouched breath- 
less behind the tent of the widowed Sparrow- 
hawk and Whippoorwill. Listening for some 
little time, and being reassured by the un- 
broken silence throughout the encampment, 
she set to work and after some effort suc- 
ceeded in pulling up two of the stakes that 


258 In the Camp of the Creeks 

pinned the back curtain to the ground. Dur- 
ing her visit to Maggie, Hi-lo-lo had indulged 
in something more than mere jealous thoughts. 
Her quick eye had shown her on which side 
of the wigwam the captive slept, judging from 
the unusual comfort of the latter’s couch, and 
she at the same time found cause to believe 
that the skins piled on the other side were 
scattered at night to form two couches for the 
old squaws, one across the door and the other 
at the prisoner’s right hand. Her design now, 
therefore, was to open a way immediately be- 
hind the head of the sleeping white girl. 

Her calculations were so exact, indeed, that 
before she had crawled halfway beneath the 
uplifted curtain she was in a position to 
touch Maggie’s head with her hand. Draw- 
ing herself a few inches further within, she 
put her hands warily forward, moved them to 
and fro, then lay still as death, in great fear. 
Her hands had encountered nothing but the 
bare pillow, or rather the upper portion of the 
couch, which was evidently unoccupied. The 


In the Camp of the Creeks 259 

interior, now that the forest cut off the light 
of the low moon, was quite dark and Hi-lo-lo 
was helpless. To move farther with out- 
stretched hands in search of Maggie’s sleeping 
form was to run the risk of laying hold of one 
of the old squaws instead. In great distress, 
the young woman was about to draw back in 
order to consider what to do, when a soft voice 
whispered in English : 

“ Who is there ? ” 

Fortunately Maggie happened to be just 
now awake, although she had slept Avell dur- 
ing the greater part of the night. Her atten- 
tion having been attracted to the slight noise 
made by the pulling up of the pegs, she lis- 
tened intently and a moment later sat up 
in bed. On seeing the dim outlines of a hu- 
man figure stealthily invading the tent, her 
first impulse was to call out and awaken the 
old squaws, but happily she recollected Hi- 
lo-lo’s promise in time to check her cry. 

The whispered answer which she received 
was at once reassuring, and she lost no time 


26o In the Camp of the Creeks 

in crawling through the opening after the 
vanishing figure of her deliverer, straining 
every nerve to imitate the noiselessness of the 
other’s movements. As she thrust her head 
beneath the curtain, old Chip-edop-law stirred 
in her sleep with a full-chested snort, and 
Maggie lay prone on her face for half a min- 
ute before she felt assured that she might move 
without danger. 

The trying experience was over at last and 
the impatient young Indian woman hurriedly 
led her willing charge into the neighboring 
brush, and thence by a roundabout way 
through the woods to the spot at the water’s 
edge where Dan had at first landed on the 
island. There Hi-lo-lo pointed out a raft of 
logs which had been put together on the pre- 
vious day by two Indians who had made an 
experimental voyage on it a mile or two up 
the creek. 

“ Water Lily go on raft,” she said. “ Push 
pole in mud — fioat down creek all day — come 
out swamp.” 


In the Camp of the Creeks 261 


But where’s Julian? ” asked Maggie anx- 
iously, having expected to find the boy await- 
ing her. '' Where’s Little Tiger-Tail ? ” 

He sleep — he no go.” 

'' Why, I can’t go without him ! I’ll get 
lost. Besides, I can’t paddle that lumbering 
raft.” 

Yes, go quick,” replied Hi-lo-lo, glancing 
about her apprehensively. “ Keep in creek — 
fioat down — to-mor’ come to white men.” 

Oh, I’m afraid,” gasped Maggie, looking 
fearfully out into the dark, dismal swamp, 
and leaning toward the Indian woman with a 
suppressed cry as the abrupt hoot of an owl 
was heard. Although her fears were genuine, 
she felt ready to make the attempt alone as a 
last resort, but was determined to have Julian 
with her if possible. 

''Stop play fool. Git on,” urged Hi-lo-lo, 
squatting down and putting her hands on the 
raft. " Me push you for start.” 

" No, no ; go and bring Julian and let him 
go with me.” 


262 In the Camp of the Creeks 

Little Tiger-Tail stay : he sleep with 
young men. Young men wake — no let go.’^ 
Hi-lo-lo was not quite sincere in this state- 
ment, for she knew it was probable that after 
drinking deeply of the war-physic the young 
men without exception would sleep like logs, 
and that it would be comparatively easy to 
loose the boy and lead him without hindrance 
from the slumbering encampment. But she 
had no reason to desire Julian’s escape. All 
her people wished to retain him captive and 
Hi-lo-lo’s determination that he should stay 
with them was no less resolute than Maggie’s 
that he should go. Even to help the latter 
ofip was more of treason to her tribe than she 
liked to think of. 

Then I won’t go a step,” declared Maggie 
vehemently, seating herself on a log. 

Hi-lo-lo came close and stared hard, a 
threatening look in her eyes. ‘‘ Water Lil}^ 
no want go,” she said at last. Water Lily 
want go in wigwam Black Hawk. Water 
Lily tongue crooked.” 


In the Camp of the Creeks 263 

Checking a contemptuous denial, Maggie 
answered quickly, not too angry to be cun- 
ning : “ You can think what you please ; I 

won^t go a step.'^ 

Hi-lo-lo remained silent some time, strug- 
gling with anger and doubt. At length she 
pointed impressively toward the raft, intimat- 
ing that there was the means of escape and if 
it were not taken advantage of, the captive 
alone would be to blame. 

Now me go,^' she added, and then walked 
haughtily away. 

But as soon as she knew that her figure was 
no longer in view she stealthily retraced her 
steps to a point whence Maggie could be 
watched unseen. For half an hour she re- 
mained there, her angry eyes fastened upon 
the immovable figure on the log. Convinced 
at last that the white girl really cared little to 
escape, and fearing that she was more than 
half inclined to reconsider and go into the 
wigwam of Black Hawk, the distressed Hi- 


264 In the Camp of the Creeks 


/ 


/ 


lo-lo stole away from the place and hurried 
toward the encampment. 

Unable to decide what to do, poor Maggie 
remained in her seat for fully an hour, quite 
heedless of the probability that the two old 
squaws would awaken to find her gone and 
give the alarm. The evidences of a com- 
motion in the camp would have driven her 
instantly upon the raft, but hearing no dis- 
quieting sounds, she remained where she 
was, always hoping that Hi-lo-lo would after 
all, take her at her word and set Julian free. 
At every croak of frog or night bird she 
started and trembled, expecting to see the 
form of an Indian warrior rise from the 
brush before her, and so at last when she 
heard the whistle of a quail close by, its prob- 
able meaning did not occur to her. A rus- 
tling of the bushes a few feet away, instead of 
reminding her of the well known signal, 
caused her to crouch down beside the log and 
remain cowering there until a young voice 
called out anxiously, but softly. 


In the Camp of the Creeks 265 

“ Cousin Maggie ! ’’ 

Oh, Julian, it’s you ! Did Hi-lo-lo turn 
you loose? ” 

Yes. But she didn’t seem to enjoy it a 
bit.” 

All further explanation was deferred. A 
minute later they were on the raft, had 
pushed it off, and were floating away in the 
darkness. 


CHAPTER XIX 

CHITTA-MIKO’S VISION AND THE FLIGHT DOWN 
THE CHEEK 

Great was the excitement in the Creek en- 
campment at sunrise next morning after old 
Sho-ko-chee and Chip-e-lop-law ran scream- 
ing from their tent and proclaimed the fact 
that their privacy had been invaded during 
the night and the Water Lily was gone. For 
scarcely had they done so when several Indian 
youths came leaping out of a brush-tent and 
cried out that Little Tiger-Tail had slipped 
his bonds and was also missing. 

Pretty Crow’s fury was so great that he 
threatened not only the mortified young men 
but the two miserable old squaws with the 
most dreadful punishment. He at once took 
council with the elders and it was agreed on 
all sides that some member of the camp had 
266 


In the Camp of the Creeks 267 

assisted the prisoners to escape. Suspicion 
promptly fell on Hightower’s Joe, whose 
laughing conferences with Julian had been 
noticed, and this gay young African was 
dragged in terror before the angry miko. 
After being vainly questioned, he was most 
soundly thrashed with large hickory switches 
on the mere suspicion of having done a deed 
which he had often promised to be guilty of 
but had never dreamed of seriously under- 
taking. Long after the negro’s cries were 
hushed Hi-lo-lo lay on her couch complain- 
ing that she was not well. Nobody thought 
of her. 

Meanwhile Black Hawk and others set 
forth to track the fugitives. As a matter of 
course the disappearance of the raft soon be- 
came known, and it was promptly agreed by 
all that the escaped prisoners were floating 
down the creek toward the open country 
south of the swamp. Thereupon Black Hawk 
dispatched runners in hot haste across the 
island to fetch the canoe, for a more impor- 


268 In the Camp of the Creeks 

tant recapture than that of Bold Warrior was 
now to be attempted. 

Some three quarters of an hour later the 
canoe was brought into the encampment on 
the shoulders of four Indians, and the bearers 
set it down to await further orders from Black 
Hawk. As they looked about them for the 
alligator chief, their attention was attracted 
to a crowd in front of Chitta-Miko’s tent. 
During all the noisy commotion of the pre- 
vious hour nothing had been seen of the 
medicine-man, whose voice was wont to be 
heard in every council and whose advice was 
often of more weight than that of Pretty 
Crow himself. 

“Where is Chitta-Miko ?” asked the coun- 
cilors repeatedly, as the unaccountable escape 
of the prisoners was being discussed. “ What 
does he say ? ” 

It was soon learned that the medicine-man 
had not been seen to issue from his tent that 
morning. A circumstance so unusual, in 
view of the cries of alarm that had startled 


In the Camp of the Creeks 269 

the camp at sunrise, did not pass unnoticed. 
Pretty Crow and his council presently moved 
forward in a body and stood before Chitta- 
Miko’s lodge, their faces showing great curi- 
osity and some alarm, as they called his name 
loudly and received no reply. Some one sug- 
gested that he might be in communion with 
the spirits who came as messengers from 
Isakita Immissi, the Master of Life, and for 
some little time with one accord the assembly 
hesitated to call him again or to enter the 
tent. But at last, fearing that harm might 
have come to him. Pretty Crow ordered the 
curtains of the door to be thrown back, and 
the chiefs and councilors approached cau- 
tiously and looked in. 

Chitta-Miko lay stretched out on the ground 
in the centre of the tent as if dead. His face 
was bloodless and his limbs rigid. His medi- 
cine bag lay beside him, open, as though he 
had been stricken in the very act of manipu- 
lating its mysterious contents. The rattle- 
snake in the corner, though lying in coil. 


270 In the Camp of the Creeks 

seemed to stir with a continuing restlessness, 
and the owl on the pole, while surveying the 
objects beneath him with his usual wise stare, 
was evidently ill at ease. 

“ He is dead,” said Pretty Crow, and com- 
manded two young men to enter and bear 
him forth from the sacred precincts. 

Filled with awe, the assembly looked on in 
silence as the order was tremblingly obeyed. 
Chitta-Miko was brought out and laid gently 
on the grass in the sun. Then it was seen 
that he was not really dead, but only that he 
lay in a deep, unnatural sleep. The sunshine, 
the voices, the handling he had received, 
roused and slowly brought him to full wake- 
fulness. He opened his eyes, stared stupidly 
a few moments, sat up, and at length rose and 
began to speak. 

Listen, men of the Muscogee,” he said in 
the Creek tongue. I have seen the red, 
bloody river that was shown in the old time 
to our fathers. I have seen the white fire 
from the east which they would not use. I 


In the Camp of the Creeks 271 

have seen the blue fire that came from Wal- 
halle which they also rejected. I have seen 
the black fire from the west which they like- 
wise refused. And I have seen the fire of red 
and yellow which they accepted and use to 
this day. Men of the Muscogee, listen ; this 
was not all. I have also looked on the moun- 
tain shown in the vision to our ancient fathers, 
the mountain that thundered and upon which 
was the sound of singing. But instead of sing- 
ing I heard the noise of battle, and there was 
a great and fearful carnage. Looking behind 
me, I saw a mighty band of mounted men 
rushing down from the northeast with bright 
swords in their hands. From the north there 
came another band and from the east another, 
and at the south there was a great company 
that awaited their coming. 

Men of the Muscogee, listen ; the faces of 
all these were white. The white men are 
gathering to the battle. Listen, my brothers ; 
I have seen them and they are strong. Let 
us go, then, before they join their forces ; let 


272 In the Camp of the Creeks 

US fly to the Seminole land before they fall 
on us and crush us. I have spoken.’’ 

The sensation caused by these strange pro- 
phetic utterances was manifest. Dread settled 
on many a face, and the old men spoke 
promptly in favor of heeding the warning 
that had been given Chitta-Miko in his 
strange, deep sleep. Even Pretty Crow, much 
as he desired to see the escaped prisoners re- 
captured, felt convinced of the wisdom of this 
advice and seemed inclined to give the order 
for an immediate evacuation of the encamp- 
ment. But Black Hawk intervened. 

“ To-morrow,” he said. ‘‘ To-morrow let us 
march forth early and travel with all speed, 
but to-day let us find that which is lost. Not 
until we have reclaimed our own am I ready 
to move.” 

“ To-morrow it shall be,” said Pretty Crow, 
after some hesitation. Gladly would he have 
opposed Black Hawk, but their wishes coin- 
cided, and reluctantly he listened to the ad- 
vice of the younger chief. To-day let us do 


In the Camp of the Creeks 273 

the work before us,” he continued. “ While 
some follow on the track of the prisoners, 
others will prepare for the march and to-mor- 
row at dawn we shall go forth. We are not 
children, and may trust in our strength. 
Woe to these white men if they molest us ! ” 
I have spoken, but the chiefs will not 
hearken,” said Chitta-Miko ominously, fixing 
a sad, earnest gaze on the face of Pretty Crow. 

In the roar of battle, when the red men fall 
like ripe leaves before the winds of autumn, 
these wise chiefs will remember the words of 
Chitta-Miko, the man of medicine.” 

With this prophetic utterance the displeased 
and sorrowing seer turned his back on the 
assembly, reentered his tent and dropped the 
curtains of the door behind him. There were 
murmurs of discontent from the fearful old 
men, but Pretty Crow disregarded them and 
repeated his announcement that the tribe was 
not to march until the morrow. Chitta- 
Miko's final warning was not even heard by 
Black Hawk, the latter being already on his 


274 In the Camp of the Creeks 

way to the water’s edge, preceded by the 
young men bearing the canoe. 

As they were compelled to depend largely 
on the movement of the sluggish current to 
carry them forward, Julian and Maggie did 
not make rapid headway. Even if they had 
been provided with a paddle, they could have 
added but little to the speed of their clumsy 
craft. The raft was composed of three ten- 
inch cypress logs about twelve feet long, 
lashed rather loosely together with ropes of 
cowhide. It was buoyant enough to float 
two persons, but was too heavy to be paddled. 
It could only be poled, after the manner of 
the backwoods flat ” or ferry-boat. 

Bidding Maggie seat herself as comfortably 
as possible near the front, Julian took his 
stand in the rear and pushed off* from land 
by means of the long light pole which he 
found ready to his hand. The darkness being 
intense, he was not always sure that they 
were following the creek’s narrow channel, 
but he kept on thrusting the pole into the 


In the Camp of the Creeks 275 

muddy bottom. Whenever they ran against 
obstructions the same pole served to push 
them off and set them afloat again. 

When day dawned the dreary flooded 
swamp was seen stretching away on all sides 
as far as the eye could reach, and Julian 
doubted if they had traveled more than a 
mile. Though tortuous in its windings, the 
channel of the creek was sufficiently wide to 
permit of an unobstructed passage, and with 
the help of daylight the boy was able to use 
his pole to better advantage. Thus their 
speed was now much increased. Maggie’s 
spirits rose with every yard of their progress, 
and she soon prattled gayly of the sensation 
they would create when they had emerged 
from the swamp, crossed the country and en- 
tered Newton. But Julian showed increasing 
anxiety and frequently cast searching glances 
over his shoulder. 

The very first thing they’ll do,” he said 
at last, after warning Maggie not to speak so 
loudly, will be to bring the canoe across the 


276 In the Camp of the Creeks 

island and put after us. Dan didn’t take the 
canoe, you know. He got off without it 
somehow and the Indians found it. They were 
talking in the camp all day yesterday about 
how they were looking for him in the ^ bith- 
low.^ And they’ll be chasing us in that very 
bithlow before long.” 

Oh, dear ! ” sighed Maggie. Do hurry, 
then, Julian, as fast as you can.” 

“ They’re sure to catch up with us, no mat- 
ter how much we hurry,” was the reply. All 
we can do is to hide the raft, if we can find a 
good place, and wait for them to go by.” 

He calculated that they had been on the 
road about two hours and that the island had 
been left some three miles behind, when he 
began to push the raft out of the current and 
work it into an opening on the right between 
a low tussock covered with cassina bushes and 
a tall growth of swamp flags. This seemed 
the best that could be done, but obstructions 
prevented the raft from being pushed in far 
enough to screen it entirely from the observa- 


In the Camp of the Creeks 277 

tion of a passing canoe. Maggie thought they 
ought to go further and secure a better haven, 
but Julian feared there was little time to spare 
and hesitated. He soon found a way out of 
the dilemma. Observing that the outward 
end of the raft floated in water scarcely two 
feet deep, it occurred to him to break a dozen 
of the cassina bushes from the back of the tus- 
sock, thrust the long stems into the muddy 
bottom, and thus furnish a screen of apparently 
living growth. The leaves of cuttings standing 
thus in cool water would not be likely to wither 
for several hours, and the appearance from the 
creek was of a continuous growth of cassina 
bushes from the top of the low tussock on a 
gradual slant to the point where the water 
flags began. 

The boy contemplated his work with satis- 
faction, and well he might, for the contrivance 
was cunning enough to mislead even the hawk 
eye of an Indian, so long as the leaves re- 
mained fresh. There was soon good reason to 
be glad that Maggie’s advice had not been fol- 


278 In the Camp of the Creeks 

lowed. Scarcely ten minutes had passed after 
the work was complete when Julian heard 
the hurried dip of paddles. Urging Maggie 
in a whisper to lie flat on the raft, the boy 
crouched down on his knees, and peeping 
through the screen, he soon saw Black Hawk 
and another Indian glide rapidly by in the 
canoe, casting frequent searching glances to 
right and left. 

Minutes passed before even a whisper was 
heard on the raft, but at the end of half an 
hour Maggie sat up inquiring how long they 
would have to remain there. Until they 
come back and go up the creek, was the re- 
ply of the sagacious boy, who knew that not 
until then would it be safe to venture from 
their retreat. 

The sun climbed higher and it grew warm. 
Hours passed. Maggie became feverishly im- 
patient. Not only were they exposed to the 
baking sun, the bites of mosquitoes and yel- 
low swamp flies, but every minute the pangs 
of hunger became harder to bear. They had 


In the Camp of the Creeks 279 

not brought a morsel of food and were equally 
without the prospect of securing any until 
their journey was over. So far as he knew, 
Julian’s rifle still lay under the log at the up- 
per end of the island, but even if it had been 
at hand, to shoot at a bird would have been 
suicidal. Nor was it possible to catch fish 
without lines or prudent to build a fire. 

“We’ve just got to grin and bear it,” said 
Julian, philosophically, and hour after hour 
he lay without a murmur, unweariedly scan- 
ning the stretch of creek water visible through 
the screen of bushes. 

It was a short while after he had noticed 
with grave concern that some of the leaves 
were slightly wilted that Julian uttered a 
warning “ Sh I ” and Maggie again flattened 
herself out on the raft, and listened in dread 
to the dip of the passing paddles. The boy 
held his very breath, as Black Hawk’s glance 
fell and lingered upon the screen of make-be- 
lieve bushes. Whatever may have been the 
Indian chief’s momentary thought, he did 


28o In the Camp of the Creeks 

not alter his course, and the canoe passed 
swiftly on. 

Half an hour later Julian poled the raft 
out into the current and they dropped down 
the stream once more, overheated, ravenously 
hungry, but cheerful and full of hope. 

About mid-afternoon, as they were at last 
emerging from the swamp, the open pine 
lands being plainly visible ahead, Julian sud- 
denly stopped punting to listen, and told 
Maggie that he had heard a faint and far 
sound suggesting a drum and fife. 

“ May be it’s the soldiers ! ” the girl cried 
joyfully. 

A moment later another sound was heard 
that froze the smile on her lips — the rapid dip 
of paddles. Glancing over his shoulder, Ju- 
lian saw that a canoe containing two Indians 
had shot around a bend of the stream and 
was now within a hundred yards. The In- 
dian in the bow of the canoe promptly cov- 
ered the boy with his rifle. Had he been 
alone, Julian would doubtless have taken the 


In the Camp of the Creeks 281 


chances of leaping into the creek, swimming 
the few intervening feet and darting into the 
bushes fringing the shore. As it was, he saw 
there was no escape, and tried to induce Mag- 
gie to accept their hard fate philosophically. 

The boy supposed that, after returning to 
the island. Black Hawk had not paddled far 
up the creek before he decided that it was out 
of the question to expect to overhaul the 
prize in that direction. The raft had inevi- 
tably been poled down stream, and as it could 
not outdistance the canoe even with a start of 
several hours, it followed that the fugitives 
lay hidden somewhere along the creek^s bor- 
ders while their pursuers were passing. To 
be once convinced of this, was to put about 
forthwith and go spinning down stream again. 

Come in,^^ ordered Black Hawk, as the 
canoe ran alongside and the other Indian laid 
hold of the raft. 

Julian quietly obeyed, but Maggie at first 
passionately refused, her eyes filling with 
angry tears. 


282 In the Camp of the Creeks 

“ Come along, — it can’t be helped,” the boy 
urged. “ If you don’t, they’ll take hold of 
you and make you.” 

A prospect so repulsive caused Maggie to 
reconsider. Suppressing a frantic sob, she 
meekly stepped forward and took the place 
assigned to her, but Black Hawk felt far from 
comfortable, under the fiery glance which she 
fixed upon him. The raft was set adrift and 
allowed to fioat on down to the open country, 
while the heavily-loaded canoe swept round 
and moved upward against the sluggish cur- 
rent. 


CHAPTER XX 


FKOM THE FRYING-PAN INTO THE FIRE 

It was with very great difficulty that Dan 
made his way into the flooded swamp. The 
darkness was intense and unseen impediments 
were everywhere. There were compara- 
tively open spaces where it was possible 
to wade or swim with ease for a few feet, but 
the swamp here as elsewhere was for the most 
part crowded with growing flags, submerged 
mosses and weeds, and the rotting branches 
of fallen trees. One entanglement succeeded 
another, and meanwhile time pressed. Nev- 
ertheless the fugitive was not content to halt 
until a distance of several hundred yards 
separated him from the shore. 

Believing that the Indians had found the 
canoe and would pursue him as soon as day 
dawned he saw that his only hope was in 
hiding himself and awaiting an opportunity 

283 


284 In the Camp of the Creeks 

to land and cross the island. How to do this 
in a way to baffle the keen-scented dog that 
would certainly accompany the party in the 
canoe was a problem of most difflcnlt if not 
impossible solution, and Dan recognized that 
his situation was desperate. To climb a tree 
would be easy enough, but how long could he 
remain in its branches unobserved ? No bet- 
ter plan suggested itself, however, and he de- 
termined on it as a temporary resource. It 
would at least be a refuge from the mud, water, 
and the horror of unseen reptiles. 

The water was only knee-deep where Dan 
halted, and though all his surroundings were 
shrouded in thick darkness, he knew that he 
must be standing on the upward slope of a 
tree-grown tussock. Looking up he saw a large 
leaf-covered branch dimly outlined between 
him and the brightening sky. A bold leap 
upward fixed his hands firmly upon it, and 
though it bent far down toward the water, it 
bore his weight, and he swung himself upward 
hand over hand until he reached the trunk. 


In the Camp of the Creeks 285 

A few moments later he was seated among the 
topmost branches of the tree, and there, wet, 
chilled and miserable, he watched the dawn- 
ing light of the first of July slowly chase away 
the darkness of the swamp. 

It was not long now before he heard the 
launching of the canoe and an occasional short 
bark from the hound taken aboard. The 
party would be certain to pass near him and 
even if the sharp eyes of the Creek warriors 
should search in vain, the dog could not fail 
to locate him. Yet Dan remained immov- 
able, helplessly awaiting his fate. He felt that 
he could do no more. 

By this time he had ascertained that he was 
perched in the branches of a water-oak, in full 
leaf, growing on a tussock within a few feet 
of an immense, aged cypress, the spreading- 
branches of the former embracing the trunk 
of the latter. It occurred to Dan that if the 
trunk of the cypress were perhaps one-fourth 
its present size, he could easily lean forward, 
clasp his arms round it and climb more than 


286 In the Camp of the Creeks 

thirty feet higher. But he had no desire to 
accomplish the feat, knowing that in the thin 
leafage of the cypress’ top he would be even 
more exposed to view than at present. 

Turning in his place to look more narrowly 
at the huge trunk, he saw a circular open- 
ing directly opposite him and apparently no 
less than a foot in diameter. Evidently 
there was a hollow in the old tree, doubtless 
furnishing a nest for squirrels or large birds. 
Dan wondered if it could be the result of some 
past forest fire, or merely of the industrious 
pecking of birds or burrowing of animals into 
the rotting heart of the old cypress. Pulling 
aside the branches obstructing his view of it, to 
his amazement and delight he saw that the 
opening was more than twice as large as he at 
first had supposed. Moreover, it was within 
reach of his grasp, should he move a foot 
or two nearer on the limb supporting him. 

Without wasting time to consider the plan 
now suggested, Dan threw himself forward, 
grasped the sides of the opening, and finding 


In the Camp of the Creeks 287 

the wood firm, drew his body with some dif- 
ficulty into the hollow of the tree, meanwhile 
conscious of a scratching sound, accompanied 
by a frightened squeak and the whisking past 
him of a large fox-squirrel that skurried wildly 
up the side of the cypress to the very top. 

The cavity proved to be nearly five feet deep 
and varied in width from one foot to three. 
Half standing, half sitting and by no means 
quite comfortable, Dan rested quiet, with his 
face to the opening, whence he could see 
nothing but the foliage of the water-oak. 
Confident that this same crowding foliage 
would screen the opening from the view of any 
one at the foot of the cypress, the refugee’s 
hopes rose with a bound. The dog might scent 
him out, but his masters, believing that a 
squirrel was the cause of the creature’s ex- 
citement, would pass on. And so it was. 

Less than five minutes after Dan entered the 
hollow he heard the dip of paddles and then 
the excited barking of the dog from a point 
so close at hand as to indicate that the canoe 


288 In the Camp of the Creeks 

had halted within arm’s length of the tussock. 
The halt was long and the suspense most try- 
ing to the hunted man. The Indians gazed 
searchingly up into the water-oak, although it 
could be seen almost at once that the fugitive 
was not there. The dog’s manner being so 
excited, their suspicions were not immediately 
allayed, and it was suggested that one of the 
party climb the tree and make sure. It was 
at this juncture that the frightened squirrel in 
the top of the cypress performed good service 
by changing its position and attracting the 
eye of those below. This was at once accepted 
as a reasonable explanation of the dog’s ex- 
citement and the canoe passed on. 

Thus was Dan saved from immediate recap- 
ture in the most unforeseen of ways. All day 
he remained immovable in his retreat, listen- 
ing intently and hearing now and then the 
dip of paddles, the low murmur of voices, and 
the barking not only of the dog in the pass- 
ing and repassing canoe but of those on shore. 
But for the sharp, cruel hunger that attacked 


In the Camp of the Creeks 289 

him ere long, and his anxieties in regard to 
the fate of Maggie and Julian he would have 
been fairly comfortable and content to bide his 
time. Though he often chafed like a caged 
lion, he well knew that it was madness to 
move until late in the night, and struggled to 
bear his sufferings with fortitude. 

The long, dreary day was over at last and 
night came on. Dan now began to twist and 
turn in order to bring life into his cramped 
and aching limbs before he attempted to de- 
scend from his hiding-place. He soon saw 
that it would not be safe to venture forth 
until a late hour, for the gleam of a camp-fire 
reached him from the shore and the yelping 
of dogs from time to time reminded him that 
the Indians were still on the watch. The long 
waiting and inactivity brought upon him a 
mental as well as physical weariness, and some 
hours after night he fell into a profound 
slumber, from which he awoke only at dawn 
of the second day. 

The unfortunate young man now saw many 


290 In the Camp of the Creeks 

hours of captivity still before him, for as the 
day advanced, from sounds that reached him 
now and then, he judged that the island shore 
was still watched by the mystified but suspi- 
cious red men. At noon of the second day 
his gnawing hunger was partly appeased by a 
small store of last season^s walnuts, chinka- 
pins, and hickory-nuts which he found at the 
bottom of the hollow. A full half of these 
were unsound, but the good ones were appre- 
ciated at their full value. 

As night drew on, all appeared quiet on the 
shore, and Dan was emboldened to change his 
position from the hollow of the cypress to the 
fork of the water-oak while still there was 
light enough to distinguish surrounding ob- 
jects. The change was not effected without 
extreme difficulty. Much turning and twist- 
ing were necessary in order to restore the cir- 
culation in his lower limbs before he could 
even lift himself into the opening of the 
hollow, and as no branch of the water-oak 
calculated to sustain his great weight was 


In the Camp of the Creeks 291 

within reach of his arms, he found it neces- 
sary to leap into the tree. But the leap was 
taken with due courage and with no results 
worse than bruised hands and a disagreeable 
ph^^sical shock. 

The change was made at dusk, but it was 
long after midnight before Dan ventured to 
step into the water and begin his noisy prog- 
ress toward the shore. He landed unmolested 
at the point near the prostrate pine, took to 
the bushes at once and began a slow and 
guarded advance across the island toward that 
point on the eastern side whence it was possi- 
ble to wade out of the swamp. Unfortunately 
the sk}^ was overcast with clouds and it was 
extremely difficult in the thick darkness to 
keep the proper course over unfamiliar ground. 
In spite of the greatest caution he went astray 
and lost an hour of valuable time. The whole 
island now seemed as still as a grave, and Dan 
had reason to hope that all the tired sentinels 
were ere this asleep at their posts. 

Once he suddenly checked his cautious ad- 


292 In the Camp of the Creeks 

vance, on seeing several white ghostly objects 
dimly outlined a short distance in front, and 
was stricken with amazement and fright to 
discover that these objects were tents and that 
he stood on the very borders of the sleeping 
encampment. Finding that his approach had 
attracted no attention, he was quick to recover 
his self-possession, and had he known where 
to lay hands on food, he would have risked 
everything to get it, such was his ravening 
hunger. 

Stealing away from the dangerous neighbor- 
hood, he took his bearings as best he could 
and went on his way. He was approaching 
the eastern limits of the island some time 
later, moving with less caution than he 
had shown at the outset, when suddenly the 
figure of a man rose before him in the gloom, 
as if to question him or dispute his passage. 
The figure was within six feet, and after a 
momentary recoil Dan was about to spring for- 
ward and begin the inevitable conflict, when 
he felt himself seized from behind. 


In the Camp of the Creeks 293 

At the same instant the figure in front 
leaped toward him, and a third started up 
from the gloom on his right. He saw at once 
that he had stumbled upon a spot where sev- 
eral sleepy sentinels were taking their ease, 
prudently refraining from lighting a fire. 
The desperate struggle that followed was soon 
over. Without even a knife with which to 
defend himself, weakened by two days of fast- 
ing and disheartened by the odds against him, 
Dan was soon forced to yield, and submitted 
to having his hands tied behind his back. 

And so, after two days of heroic struggle for 
liberty, he was led back to the Indian encamp- 
ment in the cloudy dawn of the third of July. 

The whole camp was astir. The women 
were cooking the morning meal and the men 
were striking the tents and otherwise prepar- 
ing to load the beasts and make ready for the 
outward march which was to be begun at the 
earliest possible moment. The arrival of Bold 
Warrior and his captors was the signal for the 
suspension of work on every hand. The camp 


294 In the Camp of the Creeks 

resounded with yells of delight, both sexes 
crowding round to look and jeer at the pris- 
oner. A hurried council being held, it was 
voted with only one dissenting voice, that of 
Chitta-Miko, the medicine-man, that the out- 
ward march be delayed just long enough to 
burn Bold Warrior at the stake. When told 
of his doom, Dan turned very pale, but did 
not protest. He only said : 

Give me something to eat, so I can stand 
it like a man. I^m near ’bout starved.” 

This request was promptly granted. The 
Indians knew that the weaker he was, the 
more quickly would he succumb, and their 
delight in the spectacle of his sufferings would 
be too soon cut short. A dish of steaming 
food was at once brought to him, but before 
he tasted it he made another request which 
was also granted. On entering the confines 
of the camp, his eyes were quick to locate 
Maggie and Julian seated in the central space 
under guard, eating their breakfast. He now 
asked permission to join them and was con- 


In the Camp of the Creeks 295 

ducted thither. Seated before them, all three 
being encircled by guards, he told his story, 
and listened to theirs, while eating raven- 
ously. 

It was a sad story of heroic effort and con- 
tinuing mishap on both sides. And yet all 
agreed that nothing but singular good fortune 
could have delayed Dan's execution to the 
present hour. They had now spent a whole 
week in and out of the Indian camp, dependent 
entirely upon their own exertions and with no 
tidings from their friends. The seeming in- 
difference of the local soldiery, their inexpli- 
cable delay in providing themselves with rein- 
forcements and marching to the rescue, was 
spoken of by Julian with contemptuous aston- 
ishment. 

“ After Dr. Foscue promised Uncle Cyrus to 
march in here with ’em the very next morn- 
ing, too ! ” 

I don’t reckon I’d be proud to be one of 
the Baker County militia this week,” was all 
Dan said. 


296 In the Camp of the Creeks 

“ They^re good-for-nothin’ cowards ! ” cried 
Maggie, with flashing eyes. 

Here they were interrupted, and, regardless 
of Maggie’s cries and Julian’s protest and 
threats of punishment to follow, Dan was led 
forward and bound to a sapling in the centre 
of the camp. After bits of dry wood had been 
piled around his feet, and while other features 
of torture were in preparation, the most ex- 
pert marksmen began to Are one after another 
at a target flxed to the sapling only about one 
inch above the doomed man’s head. Poor 
Dan underwent the distressing ordeal with 
great courage, but in spite of himself his head 
involuntarily dodged to one side at every re- 
port, seeing which the Indians laughed and 
hooted in derision. 

Bold Warrior is a woman,” they said. 

Maggie turned her eyes away and hid her 
face in her hands weeping bitterly, but Julian 
stormed and threatened wildly in his rage and 
grief, warning the Creeks that for every wound 
inflicted on Dan a dozen warriors would meet 


In the Camp of the Creeks 297 

a just and violent death. The torrent of the 
brave boy^s eloquence was suddenly checked 
by a young Indian who struck him rudely in 
the face. While leaping toward his assailant 
with doubled fists Julian was seized and held 
firmly by his guards. Even then he did not 
succumb tamely, but declared aloud that the 
Creek warriors were not men but wolves, 
beasts, dogs ! 

A pile of pine splinters, sharpened at the 
ends, was presently brought forward. These 
were to be thrust into the victim's flesh and 
then set on fire, and it was in view of this that 
Dan had been stripped to the waist before be- 
ing bound to the sapling. But at the sugges- 
tion of Black Hawk, who thought no time 
should be wasted. Pretty Crow decided that 
the grumbling spectators must be denied the 
pleasure of witnessing this inhuman spectacle, 
and he directed that fire at once be applied to 
the wood heaped around Dan's feet. 

As a warrior stepped forward with a burn- 
ing brand, exclamations of surprise and alarm 


298 In the Camp of the Creeks 

were uttered on all sides, and each person in 
the crowd looked significantly into the face of 
his neighbor ; for the sound of an uproar and 
rapid firing was now heard from the eastern 
quarter of the island. 


CHAPTER XXI 


THE BATTLE OF CHICKASAWHATCHEE 

And now an Indian scout was seen running 
into the camp from the east at the top of his 
speed. He breathlessly reported that a large 
body of white soldiers, on horseback and 
afoot, had been seen wading toward the island 
and that ere this they were no doubt landing 
in great numbers. Instantly all was panic 
and confusion, but the clear ringing voice of 
Black Hawk and the stern commands of 
Pretty Crow soon restored order. 

Sho-ko-chee and Chip-e-lop-law were or- 
dered to seize and hold Maggie, and four 
other lusty squaws laid hands on the arms and 
legs of the struggling boy. The remainder of 
the women being directed to proceed with the 
execution of Bold Warrior, the chiefs called 
upon all the fighting men to follow and rushed 

299 


300 In the Camp of the Creeks 

forward to the scene of battle, shouting their 
wild war cry : 

“ Yo-ho-ee-hee ! Yo-ho-ee-hee ! Yo-ho-ee- 
hee ! 

In a few moments the last one of them was 
lost to view and the squaws, though trembling 
in their fright, hastened to obey the command 
of the chiefs. Catching up the firebrand that 
had been dropped and was now almost ex- 
tinct, one of the women applied it to the 
wood at Dan’s feet, knelt down and fanned 
the reviving flame with her breath. Some 
little time passed before the fire began to make 
headway, and meanwhile the sounds of con- 
tinuous firing reached them from the eastern 
shore of the island. 

Now listen to me, you women,” said Dan 
to the squaws clustering about him. “ I know 
mighty well you’d a long sight rather see me 
burn than to eat a pot o’ honey, but I reckon 
you’ve got some sense left. You hear that 
shootin’, don’t you? That means that the 
State o’ Georgey has put her finger in the 


In the Camp of the Creeks 301 

pie at last, and when she goes into a fight 
with you Injuns, she ginerally comes out on 
top.’^ 

Listen ! cried Julian in rapture. ‘‘ Our 
boys are just givin’ it to ^em I ” 

You Injuns ain’t fitten to stand up against 
rale soldiers in a fair fight,” continued Dan. 
'' ’Sides that, the white men have got you in a 
trap and before you know it every Injun but 
the dead ones will be run off this island.” 

Bold Warrior know better,” interrupted 
Hi-lo-lo, who stood calmly looking on but 
taking no part in the lighting of the fire. 

Injun brave. No white man brave like 
Black Hawk.” 

** You just wait till the birds go to roost to- 
night and see what you’ll see,” replied Dan. 
^'And if you women know what’s good for 
you, you’ll outen this fire before it gits too 
hot. If you’ll do that. I’ll undertake to keep 
the soldiers off ’n you. They shan’t hurt nary 
one o’ you.” 

Only contemptuous jeers were brought out 


302 In the Camp of the Creeks 

by this pacific proposal, and the Avood was 
now piled over the little flame in a way to 
create a better draught. Very soon the fire 
began to reach upward and Dan to feel op- 
pressed by the hot smoke which rose into his 
face. Julian appealed to Hi-lo-lo and to the 
squaws who held him, one after another, but 
all to no purpose. Then in a frenzy of anguish 
and impotent rage he threatened them wildly, 
realizing that in a few moments Dan’s last 
chance Avould be gone. 

Meanwhile the sounds of conflict drew nearer 
and presently a few Indians were seen rush- 
ing into the eastern side of the encampment, 
several dragging after them the dead bodies of 
comrades. Immediately afterward the thud 
of horse hoofs was heard and a squad of cav- 
alry burst into view in the open pines beyond 
the camp on the heels of a dozen Indian braves 
who ran like deer. 

The women stampeded at once, taking to 
the bushes like so many rats leaping into 
their holes. But even in their panic their 



JULIAN SCATTERED THE BURNING STICKS 


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In the Camp of the Creeks 303 

stubborn natures resisted the inevitable. They 
were willing to leave Dan to the flames, know- 
ing that before the soldiers reached him he 
would be beyond help, but with a singular ob- 
stinacy they attempted to drag their prisoners 
away with them. 

But Julian's flerce struggles and the un- 
scrupulous use of his teeth, in addition to the 
unnerving terror that had seized them, proved 
too much for the squaws who still held him, 
and he soon shook himself free. Forgetting 
Maggie altogether in the presence of Dan's 
horrible impending fate, the boy flew to the 
relief of his friend. Fortunately his eye fell 
upon a large calabash of water close at hand 
and, catching it up, he dashed the contents 
against Dan's body, and then scattered the | 
burning sticks with his feet. His pocket 
knife promptly did the rest. 

In a very few moments after Julian's re- 
lease Dan was also free, and bounding away 
from the tree of death, he stood coughing and 
sputtering and blinking in his wet scorched 


304 In the Camp of the Creeks 

trousers and bare, smoke-blackened body, 
while the boy leaped about him and shouted 
like one gone mad for joy. Thus they were 
found by some half dozen cavalrymen, all 
strangers, who galloped up, the foremost 
leading a horse whereon sat an Indian pris- 
oner whom Julian recognized as Chitta- 
Miko. 

‘‘ Don’t hurt that Indian,” he cried. ‘‘ He’s 
the only one of the whole lot of ’em who 
didn’t want to burn Dan.” 

We don’t intend to hurt him,” was the 
answer. “ As soon as we caught him he told 
us to hurry on here and save a young white 
man’s life.” 

“Did he shore ’nough?” asked Dan, hav- 
ing now rubbed his smoked and watering 
eyes until he was able to see. “ Well, now, 
he ain’t a bad Injun, is he? Julian here got 
ahead of him, but I’m thankful to him jest 
the same,” he added, with a grateful look at 
the medicine man. 

“ I reckon we’ll turn him loose when the 


In the Camp of the Creeks 305 

fight’s over and let him go,” continued the 
soldier . 

“Where is Chitta-Miko to go?” muttered 
the Indian, despairingly. “ Isakita Immissi 
is angry with his children and has scattered 
them like dying leaves before the winter 
wind.” 

“ But the fight ain’t over,” put in another 
cavalryman. “ Come along, boys, and take a 
hand.” 

“ Gim-me a gun,” said Dan eagerly, and one 
of the mounted men handed him a loaded 
pistol. 

Julian was also furnished with a spare pis- 
tol, and thereupon the party wheeled about 
and rode back toward the scene of continuing 
conflict. They had marked the flight of the 
Indian women from afar, but did not think it 
well to pursue them. Sterner duties called 
them elsewhere. Just as they started, two 
riderless Indian ponies dashed into the camp, 
raced round for half a minute, then came to a 
halt. Julian ran toward one of them with 


3o 6 In the Camp of the Creeks 

coaxing cries and succeeded in capturing it. 
Mounting and calling out to Dan to take the 
other pony and follow, he galloped away after 
the soldiers. 

But Dan did not budge. He stood looking 
round him stupidly. Where was Maggie? 
“Well if that boy ain’t gone crazy and clean 
forgot Maggie ! ” he exclaimed aloud, amazed 
beyond words. 

For the moment both had forgotten her, 
taken up as they were with the escape from 
the fire and the arrival and departure of the 
squad of cavalry, all of which had taken place 
within less than two minutes. Dan’s last 
glimpse of the girl was just before the smoke 
blinded him, and she was then struggling in 
the grasp of old Sho-ko-chee and Chip-e-lop- 
law. Manifestly the squaws had dragged her 
after them in their flight into the bushes. 
There was no room for doubt as to the direc- 
tion they had taken, and catching up a knife 
from the ground and armed with the pistol 
just given him, Dan rushed off in pursuit. 


In the Camp of the Creeks 307 

Julian had read of many battles, for he 
loved books as well as hunting, but never had 
he pictured to himself such a battle as this. 
When he reached the top of the slope and 
looked abroad into the pine barren that 
crowned the island, he could scarcely tell 
where was friend and where was foe. There 
was no firing of volleys from one line of men 
at another line regularly drawn up to oppose 
them. Mixed “ in confusion dire seemed 
the white warriors and the red, and scattered 
over a great area, fighting in small groups. 
The main difference in their methods seemed 
to be that, while the white men showed them- 
selves and charged boldly this way and that, 
the Indians hugged the cover of the palmet- 
toes, blackjack thickets and gallberry brush. 

Into such hiding-places the cavalry charged 
again and again, chasing them across the 
open spaces and slashing at them with their 
sabres. It was the evolutions of these that 
attracted Julian, filling him with mad en- 
thusiasm and soon carrying him into the 


3d 8 In the Camp of the Creeks 

heart of the fray. After them and with them 
he galloped this way and that, heedless of the 
flying bullets, and shouting himself hoarse. 
Even to his inexperienced eye, it was soon 
clear that the Indians were playing a losing 
game. When compelled to face their foes in 
the open, their war-whoop was less and less 
confident, and they were easily scattered by 
the cavalry and chased into dense hummocks, 
often indeed into the stagnant waters of the 
swamp itself, where they hid themselves in 
the flags or crouched behind tussocks and 
tree trunks. 

Of all the strange new sights witnessed by 
Julian that morning, the strangest, he thought, 
was the spectacle of the Creek warriors risking 
their lives in order to carry off their dead only 
to throw them into the swamp. He did not 
know that this was a universal custom fol- 
lowed by the Indians in order to conceal their 
losses from the enemy and to prevent the latter 
from securing scalps. The boy witnessed this 
gruesome dragging of the dead by the living 


In the Camp of the Creeks 309 

into the submerged swamp while galloping 
down to the prostrate pine under which he 
had hidden his rifle. Although the errand 
separated him some distance from his friends 
and was fraught with great danger, he was not 
satisfied until he had reached the place, leaped 
from his captured pony, secured the rifle, re- 
mounted and galloped away. Undoubtedly 
he thus became an easy target for unseen 
marksmen, and, had he not been Little Tiger- 
Tail and none other, it is more than likely 
that he could not have escaped alive. 

The Indians being finally routed and driven 
beyond reach in the dense hummock and the 
swamp, the pursuing whites were recalled by 
a few bugle blasts and proceeded toward the 
camp, whither the bulk of the troops had now 
marched in triumph. In spite of the heroic 
efforts of the Creeks to carry off their fallen 
comrades, thirteen of their dead were found 
on the field, among whom Julian recognized 
Pretty Crow, the already repulsive face of the 
chief being horribly distorted in the death 


310 In the Camp of the Creeks 

agony. Of the whites, a dozen or more were 
wounded but only one was killed. 

Not until the camp was reached and he had 
recovered from the wild excitement of the 
past hour, did Julian recollect Maggie and 
look around in vain for Dan. Recalling 
that his cousin had been heedlessly aban- 
doned, the boy was now overwhelmed with 
a horror of remorse in the conviction that the 
Indian women had succeeded in carrying her 
off, and all the glories of the battle of Chick- 
asawhatchee were forgotten. 


CHAPTER XXII 


HI-LO-LO TRIUMPHS AND JULIAN RIDES TO A 
WEDDING 

Dan rushed madly along the downward 
slope through the woods, on the track of the 
fleeing squaws and children. Some ten min- 
utes later he found them huddled together in 
a dense hummock bordering the swamp, 
awaiting the issue of the struggle, or rather 
dreading the approach of the enemy ; for al- 
ready they knew that the gods of battle had de- 
cided against them, and that the valiant Mus- 
cogees were scattering from the ill-fated fleld. 
As Dan burst into their midst, there was much 
scowling and snarling and they looked eager 
to attack him, unarmed as they were, but ter- 
ror withheld them. 

Singling out old Sho-ko-chee and Chip-e- 
lop-law, the young man demanded to know 
311 


312 In the Camp of the Creeks 

what they had done with Maggie. At first they 
refused to speak, but Dan had no sooner lev- 
eled his pistol at Sho-ko-chee and she read her 
death warrant in the furious look of his eye 
than she made haste to open her stubborn 
mouth. The Water Lily was not there, the 
trembling old squaw told him. Only a few 
moments since Black Hawk had rushed 
among them, announcing that the pale-faces 
were countless, Pretty Crow was slain, and 
the battle was lost. In the confusion that 
followed, the alligator chief was seen whis- 
pering to his wife, and Hi-lo-lo promptly 
seized her little son by the hand and disap- 
peared among the trees. Black Hawk then 
ordered the other women to remain where 
they were until their husbands came for them, 
and seizing the screaming and struggling 
Water Lily in his arms, he lifted her bodily 
and rushed away on the track of his wife. 

Learning the direction taken, Dan started 
off in hot pursuit, soon reaching an elevation 
whence he looked down a slope to the waters 


In the Camp of the Creeks 313 

of the creek and was witness of a curious 
scene. 

On the shore stood Black Hawk, holding 
the struggling figure of Maggie in his arms. 
Seated in the canoe about thirty feet from 
land were Hi-lo-lo and a small Indian boy. 
It was at once clear to the observer that the 
alligator chief had furiously and repeatedly 
ordered his wife to come ashore and take him 
and his burden aboard, and that the latter 
stubbornly refused to do so unless he consented 
to set his captive down and allow her to escape. 
Thus was Hi-lo-lo mistress of the situation. 
It would have been easy enough for the Indian 
to plunge into the water and overtake the 
canoe, had he been alone ; but with Maggie to 
care for he was powerless. 

The appearance of Dan at the top of the 
slope promptly brought matters to a crisis. 
Hi-lo-lo cried out warningly that the white 
men were coming, and turning to look. Black 
Hawk became convinced that his wife spoke 
the truth, though he saw only Dan. He felt 


314 In the Camp of the Creeks 

that there was not a moment to lose, and he 
must make his choice. Setting his burden 
gently down, he turned away with a gesture 
of despair, and leaping into the creek, swam 
to meet the advancing canoe. Meanwhile 
Maggie ran toward her rescuer, who raised 
his pistol and covered Black Hawk, as the 
latter climbed aboard. 

Don't shoot ! " screamed the girl. You 
might hit Hi-lo-lo." 

Dan lowered his weapon, promptly moved 
by this appeal, being well aware that but for 
the young Indian woman’s courageous oppo- 
sition to the will of her husband, he would 
not have arrived in time for Maggie’s rescue. 
In a very few moments the canoe passed from 
view among the trees, and Dan and Maggie 
walked hurriedly up the slope, the latter in- 
quiring anxiously about Julian. 

On the outskirts of the camp they encoun- 
tered a company of soldiers just returning 
from the victorious field, and these, being told 
of the hiding-place of the Creek women, 


In the Camp of the Creeks 315 

rushed away with enthusiasm, bent on cap- 
turing the whole lot. It was while Dan stood 
directing them that Dr. Foscue and Tommy 
Lumpkin, wet and bedraggled from their 
march with the soldiers into the swamp and 
presenting a rather forlorn appearance, rushed 
up and greeted Maggie with evidences of great 
satisfaction. 

“ This will be a happy day for Mr. Kes- 
wick, said the doctor. “ He’s been plumb 
distracted about you.” 

“Yes, I reckon it’s been a hard week for 
Uncle Cyrus,” rejoined Maggie, glad to see the 
doctor’s familiar face. 

“ It’s mighty lucky we got here before the 
Injuns carried you off to Fluridy,” remarked 
Tommy Lumpkin with a self-important air. 

“ Well, all I’ve got to say is, you took your 
time a-comin’,” said Maggie, dryly. “ If Ju- 
lian and Dan Dennard hadn’t been here to 
keep the Injuns busy, I reckon I’d ’a’ been in 
Fluridy and married to Pretty Grow by this 
time ! ” 


3i 6 In the Camp of the Creeks 

Poor crest-fallen Tommy was ready with no 
reply, but Dr. Foscue answered meekly that 
he had done everything within the power of 
man to do in order to persuade the militia to 
invade the swamp at once. It was not his 
fault that his efforts failed ; the militia had 
declared that it was suicidal and refused to 
move until help came. 

“ ThaPs what we thought,” replied the girl, 
amiably enough, and maybe it was right. 
But Julian and Dan didn’t wait for no slow- 
coach militia. There’s two men for you, if 
one of ’em is a boy I ” 

The arrival of Julian on his captured pony, 
hurrahing and shouting in his great joy at 
finding Maggie quite safe, put an end to this 
embarrassing conversation. 

Some time later Colonel Beall and the four 
captains who accompanied him on the march 
to the island, sat down to lunch with Maggie, 
Dan and Julian in the council house, the 
largest tent still standing. Dan had washed 
the smoke from his face and recovered the 


In the Camp of the Creeks 317 

blue-checked shirt of which he had been 
stripped, but felt none the less awkward in 
such grand company, and was very brief when 
called upon to tell his story. Not so Julian 
and Maggie, who each in turn entertained the 
officers with graphic accounts of all that had 
occurred in and out of the Creek camp during 
the past week, provoking laughter more often 
than expressions of indignation. 

“ If you weren^t such a youngster,” said 
Colonel Beall once to Julian, in the hearing 
of all, I should be inclined to say that you 
had fairly won the young lady. But under 
the circumstances, I suppose she’ll have to 
content herself with the other hero whose 
claims, we must all admit, are highly respect- 
able.” 

Whereupon Maggie tossed her little red 
head and remarked, in substance, that after 
refusing to wed two such distinguished char- 
acters as Black Hawk and Pretty Crow, she 
would not be likely to content herself with 
common folks.” Everybody laughed heart- 


3i 8 In the Camp of the Creeks 

ily except the “ other hero,” who looked very 
uncomfortable behind his make-believe smile. 

The Indian women and children had been 
promptly captured and brought as prisoners 
into the camp, and before the officers had 
risen from the meal, Julian made bold to in- 
quire of Colonel Beall what he expected to do 
with them. 

“ What would you do with them, my little 
man ? Would you treat them as they treated 
you?” 

No, sir. I^d let them go to their friends 
in Florida, and send Chitta-Miko with them.” 

The colonel had a good heart, although 
brave and terrible in battle. He seemed to 
like the suggestion, and to be more pleased 
than ever with the boy who made it ; but he 
said : If Chitta-Miko is a man, he cannot 

go. Not a man of them shall be allowed to 
join the vicious Seminoles, if it can be pre- 
vented.” 

But after he had heard all about Chitta- 
Miko, how he disapproved of taking vengeance 


In the Camp of the Creeks 319 

on helpless prisoners^ how he had opposed the 
burning of Dan, and sought to save the young 
man’s life even after his own capture, Colonel 
Beall decided that to send such an Indian to 
Florida could do no harm and might do some 
good. The medicine-man was sent for and 
presently stood before the officers and their 
guests in the council-house. 

What have you to say for yourself? ” asked 
the colonel, by no means gently. 

Nothing,” was the proud answer. 

Well, fortunately I have good reports of 
you, and I am going to let you go. You may 
take the women and children and continue 
your march to Florida, but the other redskins 
scattered through this swamp shall be hunted 
down to a man. They have scalped unoffend- 
ing men and helpless women, and shall be 
treated as outlaws.” 

My poor brothers have sinned,” said 
Chitta-Miko humbly. “ They would not listen 
to me — my poor Indians ! They cannot for- 
get their wrongs.” 


320 In the Camp of the Creeks 

‘‘ No excuses, if you please, interrupted 
Colonel Beall, sharply. I hope you will be 
more successful in teaching the Seminoles the 
humanity which you profess than you have 
been with the Creeks. You should teach them 
that their great white father at Washington is 
their friend and will treat them well, if they 
will only listen to his messages and bury the 
tomahawk.’^ 

‘‘ If the great white father is our friend^ 
why will he not protect us from those who are ( 
devouring and never full — the hungry whit^ 
land-grabbers?” 

Silence ! ” ordered the colonel. ‘‘ I am 
not here to listen to charges against my gov- 
ernment from an Indian prisoner. ” 

Julian’s eyes were full of sympathy as they 
now rested on the medicine-man. He feared 
that neither Colonel Beall nor the ‘‘ great 
white father ” at Washington knew all, and 
that there were two sides to this Indian 
question. He recalled the declaration of 
Chitta-Miko tliat land had been sold the 


In the Camp of the Creeks 321 

United States by certain venal Creek chiefs 
without the consent of their brother chiefs or 
the councils of their nation, with war as a 
result. 

You may take a few mules,” added Colonel 
Beall, so that the children and old women 
may ride, and in order to carry provisions and 
tents.” 

The white chief ^s heart is kind and his 
hand is open,” said Chitta-Miko, gratefully, 
but why should the weak and helpless march 
out only to have the white men fall upon them? 
Isakita Immissi is angry with his children and 
the Muscogees are scattered to the four winds. 
The hour of which we were warned has come. 
Let us die here ! ” 

“ No one will harm you ; I will give you a 
passport,” said the soldier, more gently than 
at first. 

The promise was kept. A paper was drawn 
up and signed by the colonel and the four cap- 
tains, setting forth that one Chitta-Miko, a 
trustworthy Creek Indian,” was to be allowed 


322 In the Camp of the Creeks 

to pass freely southward into the Seminole 
lines, together with the Indian women and 
children in his charge. Armed with the 
same, the medicine-man departed some two 
hours later, with all the squaws and children, 
and with the mules, a few tents and provi- 
sions to last them on their journey. 

They were preceded an hour by Maggie, 
Dan, Julian, Dr. Foscue and young Lumpkin, 
accompanied by a strong guard. The journey 
homeward was without accident, and Maggie 
was restored to the arms of her uncle before 
the sun had set. 

And here the story of a plucky boy's ad- 
ventures in the Creek war comes to an end. 
There is nothing more to add, except that 
about three years later Julian Curtis, then a 
fine manly youth of seventeen with good pros- 
pects of a successful and honorable life before 
him, again rode down from Columbus to the 
vicinity of the Chickasawhatchee, this time 
astride of his well-beloved Indian pony, in 


In the Camp of the Creeks 323 

order to witness the marriage of Maggie and 
Dan. For the bashful young backwoods 
giant had at last succeeded in triumphing 
over the numerous other suitors, and was the 
happiest of men. In explaining to the hon- 
ored visitor the circumstances of her final sur- 
render, the bride remarked with every appear- 
ance of artless simplicity : 

You see, Julian, honey, Dan was the 
only rale man in the whole raft of ’em that 
come a-pesterin’ me, and I just had to put 
up with him and take him. If you had ’a’ 
been older, it might ’a’ been different, but, 
gracious me, you was such a child, you 
know.” 

You can’t fool me,” retorted the astute 
boy. “ I knew from the start that you loved 
the very ground Dan walked on.” 

In reply to this Maggie burst into a merry 
laugh and informed the lad that he “ never 
did have the sense he was born with.” To her 
uncle, a few minutes later, however, she de- 
clared that Julian Curtis had '' more sense ” 


324 In the Camp of the Creeks 

than “ half the men in Baker County put to- 
gether/^ 

During his stay at the Keswick farm, Ju- 
lian one day encountered Hightower’s Joe, 
and obtained through him some interesting 
news. It appeared that the negro had es- 
caped to Florida with the fugitive Indians, but 
after three years had wearied of the wild life 
they led and voluntarily returned to the farm 
of his white master in Georgia, where work 
was indeed a necessity, but where also there 
were biscuits and cabbages in abundance. 
Tantalizing visions of the latter, he laugh- 
ingly confessed, had brought him home. 

He reported that Chitta-Miko had in due 
time reached the Seminole land, together with 
the women and children in his charge, and 
was still practicing the arts of the spirit-doctor 
in the villages of the kindred tribe. Black 
Hawk had also arrived there with his wife 
and little son, and was yet living as the ac- 
knowledged head of the remnant of the Creeks, 
who put in an appearance daily in twos and 


In the Camp of the Creeks 325 

threes for weeks after their dispersion on the 
ill-fated day of the battle of Chickasawhat- 
chee. He had taken no other wife and had 
apparently forgiven the rebellious Hi-lo-lo 
who seemed well content in these latter days. 

According to Hightower’s Joe, whose word 
was not as good as a bond, but who might be 
safely trusted in this instance, both the worthy 
medicine-man and the proud alligator chief 
often spoke in the friendliest way of Julian, 
declaring that they would always remember 
with admiration and affection the brave boy 
whom they still distinguished by his Indian 
name of “ Little Tiger-Tail.” 


HISTORICAL POSTSCRIPT 


According to an account in White’s Historical 
Collections of Georgia, the battle of Chickasawhat- 
chee “ was the hardest fought of the war with the 
Creek Indians in 1836.” The brief chronicle is as 
follows : 

“On the third of July, a week after the Indians 
entered the swamp, the two Baker companies (local 
militia commanded by Captains Rich and Hentz) 
having been joined by Captain Jarnigan’s company 
from Stewart County, Captain Holmes’ company 
from Early County, a company from Thomas 
County, and a company of cavalry from Bibb 
County, numbering together about five hundred 
men, the whole under the command of Colonel 
Beall, it was determined to attack the Indian camp. 
Accordingly two hundred men were stationed out- 
side the swamp to prevent the escape of the enemy 
(and to guard the horses and stores, says another 
account) ; and these were subsequently joined by 
Captain Bostwick’s company from Pulaski County. 

“The remaining force penetrated the swamp, 
through the undergrowth, mud and water, some- 
times to their waists, to the Indian camp, when a 
warmly-contested battle of more than half an hour 
was maintained ; until the Indians were driven from 
326 


In the Camp of the Creeks 327 

the field, leaving nine dead together with their 
horses and plunder. Several dead were seen to be 
carried off the field during the battle, and some 
were afterward found by the whites. Of the 
Georgia troops, twelve or fourteen were wounded, 
one mortally. The Indians were dispersed, and 
being closely pursued by the different companies, 
were for the most part made captive or killed 
before reaching Florida. The consequences of this 
action were very important, as it prevented the 
junction of a band of brave and experienced war- 
riors with the Seminoles, who were then giving 
the General Government much trouble in Florida.” 

An account, said to be written immediately after 
the battle by an officer taking part in it, which 
appeared in the Columbus (Ga.) Sentinel^ during 
the same year (1836), gives further particulars as 
follows : 

“After marching about four miles in mud and 
water from knee-deep to their waists, the advance 
guard discovered the enemy’s tents pitched on dry 
ground (‘ an island in the middle of the Chickasa- 
whatchee swamp,’ says the other writer), and such 
being their eagerness to fight, they cracked away 
at an Indian who chanced to be walking down to 
the water to wash his hands. This alarmed the 
whole camp and they rushed out and commenced a 
regular fire at our men behind the cover of trees, 
etc., led on by a chief who did all he could to 


328 In the Camp of the Creeks 

encourage his men, until an unerring ball from a 
rifle laid him prostrate upon the earth. The firing 
lasted about twenty minutes, when the charge was 
made and the enemy fled with precipitation, leaving 
thirteen dead upon the field, and ample evidence 
of a much greater number being slain ; many were 
seen to be picked up and carried off. 

“ The Indians had thirty -six tents and an incred- 
ible quantity of beef, bacon, horses, saddles, bridles, 
homespun cloth, cooking utensils, etc., all of which 
fell into the hands of the victorious whites. Many 
rifles were also taken. Two dead Indians have 
been found since the battle and some twenty-five 
or thirty horses and mules taken. It is impossible 
to say how many Indians there are. Tom Carr’s 
estimate is generally believed to be correct ; he 
numbered them at three hundred. There were at 
any rate thirty-six cloth tents. Colonel Beall had 
two hundred and seventy-five men.” 

The account closes with the statement that the 
scattered Indians were endeavoring to escape to 
their friends in Florida, but that their prospects 
were the reverse of promising, “for the boys are 
mad and determined to have them.” 


THE END 


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Earning Her Wa^ 

cMps^ Qarke Johnson Itlustraied hy Ida Waugh 

A charming story of an ambitious girl who overcomes in a 
most original manner, many obstacles that stand in the way 
.i of securing a college course. While many of her experiences 
are of a practical nature and show a brave, self-reliant spirit 
some of her escapades and adventures are most exciting, yet 
surrounding the whole there is an atmosphere of refinement 
and inspiration that is most helpful and pleasing. 

Her College T>ays 

Sy Qarke Johnson Illustrated by Ida Waugf 

This is a most interesting and healthful tale of a girl’s life in a 
New England college. The trustful and unbounded love oi 
the heroine for her mother and the mutual and self-sacrificing 
devotion of the mother to the daughter are so beautifully in- 
terwoven with the varied occurrences and exciting incidents oi 
college life as to leave a most wholesome impression upon 
the mind and heart of the reader, 

Two Wyoming Girls 

'^y FMrs, Carrie Z. cMarshall Illustrated by Ida Waugh 

Two girls, thrown upon their own resources, are obliged te 
- Drove up ” their homestead claim. This would be no very 
serious matter were it not for the persecution of an unscru- 
pulous neighbor, who wishes to appropriate the property to 
his own use. The girls endure many privations, have a num- 
ber of thrilling adventures, but finally secure their claim and 
are generally well rewarded for their courage and persever- 
ance. 


^he Girt ^l^nchers 

9y Mrs. Carrie L. Marshall Ittastrated hy Ida Waugt 

A story of life on a sheep ranch in Montana. The dangers 
and difficulties incident to such a life are vividly pictured, and 
the interest in the story is enhanced by the fact that the ranch 
is managed almost entirely by two young girls. By their 
energy and pluck, coupled with courage, kindness, and un^ 
selfishness they succeed in disarming the animosity of the 
neighboring cattle ranchers, and their enterprise eventualli 
results successfully. 

c/1 cMatd at King cAlfrecT s Court 

’Ey Lucy Foster cMadison Iltustraied by Ida Waugh 

This is a strong and well told tale of the 9th century. It is a 
faithful portrayal of the times, and is replete with historical 
information. The trying experiences through which the little 
heroine passes, until she finally becomes one of the great 
Alfred’s family, are most entertainingly set forth. Nothing 
short of a careful study of the history of the period will give 
so clear a knowledge of this little known age as the reading 
of this book. 

(A cMaid of the First Century) 

Ey Lucy Foster Madison Illustrated by Ida Waugh 

A little maid of Palestine goes in search of her father, who 
for political reasons, has been taken as a slave to Rome. She 
is shipwrecked in the Mediterranean, but is rescued by a 
passing vessel bound for Britain. Eventually an opportunity is 
afforded her for going to Rome, where, after many trying and 
exciting experiences, she and her father are united and his 
liberty is restored to him. ^ 


<A daughter of the Forest 

Evetyn Raymond lUustraied by Ida Waugh 

The heroine of this unusual tale resides with her uncle on an 
island in the backwoods of Maine, and her exciting adven- 
tures, her unique animal pets, her rescue of her father from 
unlawful imprisonment, all combine to form a story of excep- 
tional interest and merit. Considerable information concern- 
ing animal and plant life is interwoven with the story. 

‘Pr/ce, 90c,, net; Postage, f2c, 

cA Colonial cMaid of Old Virginia 

^y Lucy Foster cMadison Illustrated by Clyde 0, DeLand 

The heroine, while yet a motherless babe, is adopted by a 
wealthy planter of Virginia. At an early age she evinces a 
strong love for the cause of the colonies, while her uncle and 
his family are ardent adherents of the King. Her many deeds 
of heroism carry her to Philadelphia during its occupancy by 
the British, thence to Valley Forge, the Wyoming massacre, 
and finally to the surrender at Yorktown. 

^rice, 90c,, net; Postage, i2c, 

<A Daughter of the Union 

Ey Lucy Foster Madison Illustrated by Clyde 0, DeLand 
A story of the Civil War in which the interest centers about 
a brave young girl who is sent by her father from New York 
to New Orleans as a bearer of important messages. Aided by 
Admiral Farragut she delivers these after running the Missis- 
sippi blockade. Later she is forced to leave New Orleans and' 
is captured and held a prisoner at Vicksburg until its surren- 
der to General Grant. 

F^rice, 90c*, net; F^ostage, 12c* 


c/1 Yankee Girt m Old California 

Evelyn Raymond Illustrated By Ida Waugh 

A young girl, reared among most delightful surroundings in 
Vermont, suddenly discovers that, owing to a clause in her 
father’s will, she must make her future home with relatives 
in the lower portion of old California. No more interesting 
experience could come in the life of any bright, observing 
girl than that of an existence in this semi-tropical region, with 
its wealth of Spanish tradition and romance, its glorious cli- 
mate, its grand scenery, and its abundance of flowers and 
foliage. 


cMy Lady barefoot 

Evelyn Raymond Illustrated by Ida Waugh 

A. beautifully told story of the trials of a little backwoods girl 
who lives in a secluded place with an eccentric uncle, until his 
death. The privations she undergoes during his life-time, her 
search for other relatives, her rather uncongenial abode with 
them, her return to her early home to acquire her uncle’s 
estate, and thus to enjoy a useful and happy life, form a most 
interesting narrative of a girl whose ruggedness and simplicity 
of character must appeal to the admiration of all readers. 

TheFerry S^aid of the Chattahoochee 

dlnnie cM. 'Barnes Uhstraied by Ida Waugh 

An heroic little Georgia girl, in her father’s extremity, takes 
charge of his ferry, and through many vicissitudes and several 
impending calamities, succeeds in carrying out her purpose ol 
supporting her invalid parent and his family. The heroine’s 
cheerfulness and hearty good humor, combined with an un- 
flinching zeal in her determination to accomplish her work, 
make a character which cannot fail to appeal to young people. 


TAe Little Lady of the Fort 

c/lnnie cM. Barnes Ulusiraled by Hctene Wood ■ 

A dramatic story dealing with the struggles of the early 
French and Spanish settlers for supremacy in the Carolinas. 
The heroine is an only daughter of the French commandant 
and is enticed from the fort and held captive by the Spaniards. 
Her release is finally effected by a young Spaniard whom she 
befriended, but not until after she has endured many severe 
trials. 

^rice, 90c*, net; Postage, i2c* 

cA Quaker cMaiden 

^y Evelyn Raymond Illustrated by Ida Waugh 

A young girl reared in all the simplicity of a Quaker family 
is suddenly transported to the home of a wealthy cousin. She 
is at first greeted with derision, but gradually her unfailing 
gentleness and sterling character win the respect of her 
cousins, and at a time of financial disaster she becomes the 
reliance of the entire family. 

^rice, 90c., net; Postage, t2c* 


^Dorothy T)ay 

JttUe Lippmann Illustrated by Ida Waugh 

This is a most interesting story of a bright and spirited young 
firl whose widowed mother re-marries. The impulsive girl 
chafes under the new relationship, being unwilling to share 
with another the bounteous love of her mother which she had 
learned to claim wholly for her own. By the exercise of great 
tact and kindness, the obdurate Dorothy is at last won over, 
and becomes a most estimable girl. 

^iss Wildfire 

Jtilie Ltppmann Illustrated by Ida Waugh 

The story of a governess’ attempt to win the love and confi- 
dence of her ward, who, owing to a lack of early restraint, is 
inclined to be somewhat of a hoyden. The developmfsnt of 
the girl’s character and her eventual victory over her turbu- 
lent disposition combine to form a story of unusual merit and 
&ne which will hold its reader’s eager attention throughout. 

“ A story of girls for girls that teaches a moral without 
labeling or tagging it at the end.” — Western Christian 
Advocate^ Cincinnati, O. 

Her Father s Legacy 

Helen Sherman Griffith Illustrated by Ida Waugh 

Suddenly bereft of father and fortune, a young girl finds her- 
self face to face with the world. Except for a deed to some 
waste land, there is practically no estate whatever. To make 
, matters worse, the executor of the estate endeavors to appro- 
I priate the deed to the land. The heroine engages in a long 
I and heroic struggle for its possession. She succeeds in 
I regaining it, and the land itself proves to be most valuable 
because of its location in a rich oil-producing district. 


c/in Odd Little Lass I 

Jessie E* Wright lilusiraied by Ida Waugh 

This is a story of the regeneration of a little street waif. She 
begins life in a lowly court of a large city. Her adventures 
are numerous, and often quite exciting. After a time she 
is transplanted to the country, where alter many thrilling j 
experiences she eventually grows into a useful and lovable , 
young woman. The story is pleasantly told, and abounds; ! 
in interesting incident. 

“The story is an intensely interesting one, and abounds in , 
pleasing and unique situations .” — Religious Telescope, Dayton,- i 
Ohio. 

cAn Ever^/Day Heroine 

^y Salary c/1* Denison Illustrated by Ida Waugh ‘ 

The heroine is not an impossible character but only a purej! 
winsome, earnest girl, who at fourteen years of age is sud*j 
denly bereft of fortune and father and becomes the chief sup*| 
port of a semi-invalid mother. While there are many touchingl' 
scenes, the story as a whole is bright and cheerful and moveaq 
forward with a naturalness and ease that carries its read-l 
ers along and makes them reluctant to put down the book 
until the end is reached 

Her Wilful Way 

Dy Helen Sherman Griffith Illustrated by Ida Waugh ' 

Lucile, a girl of strong will and quick temper, but generous j 
and truthful, is confronted with a stepmother. Her rebellious ; 
spirit is aroused, and she is sent away to school where she ' 
becomes an acknowledged leader in many pranks. Suffering 
an attack of fever, she is nursed by her stepmother and the 
two become reconciled. 

H^rice, 90c*, net ; H^ostage, 12 q*, 




f 


. ..OP)' DEL. TO CAT, OlV. 
OCT. 181 1903 



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N. MANCHESTER, 
INDIANA 46962 


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